


Dirty Little Secrets

by kellsbells



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bering and Wells meets Scandal! Sort of. Helena needs a wife to improve her image because of her well-publicised philandering. Enter Myka Bering and Giselle Katz, prospective candidates. Who will Helena choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me after watching Scandal one day; Olivia was helping some dude to get elected as governor or senator and she thought he was gay. She suggested that they find him a husband because she could sell that easily. So here’s my take on a Bering and Wells political marriage AU. Tropes abound, and I don’t care. :)

* * *

 

Helena Wells had fallen into the world of politics mostly by accident, rather than by design, but now she was committed to doing what she could to make a difference. The power was attractive; of course it was. But the main attraction for her was getting to a position where she was able to make the kind of difference she had always dreamed of making. The kind of position where she could make a difference in people’s lives. She wanted to be the kind of person whose name ended up in the history books as the reason why the course of history was changed.

 

She was a realist. Part of being a politician was being in the public eye, but most of what the public saw was the illusion that the politician and their team projected. She knew that there would be things she would have to do; things she wouldn’t _want_ to do, to get to where she needed to be. She had never expected to be faced with this _particular_ situation, however.

 

“You need to get married, HG. You need to find a good, honest woman and marry her. Your sexuality isn’t a problem for most of the people we’ve polled; the philandering is the problem,” Deb Stanley said from the other side of the huge conference table. They were in Deb’s office in central Washington. The President’s Chief of Staff, Arthur Nielsen, had sent Helena Deb’s card, with a note that said _“We want you to be her Successor. Deb will help – use her.”_

“You want me to get married? To whom? Just some random woman?” Helena asked incredulously.

 

“We have a list of possible candidates,” Deb said, holding her hand out without looking. Her assistant passed a file to her smoothly, as if they’d rehearsed the move.

 

Helena stared.

 

“Is this a thing that people do? Have you done this before?”

 

She had thought she couldn’t be surprised any more by what went on in Washington. Apparently she was wrong.

 

“More times than I care to tell you about,” Deb said.

 

Helena huffed out a sharp breath. They were serious. They were actually serious.

 

“Charles didn’t have to get married to get elected to the Senate,” Helena said, frowning.

 

“Charles wasn’t a philanderer. Charles didn’t sleep with every model and actress that crossed his path. Charles didn’t end up in every gossip magazine from here to Seattle. Charles has dated 2 women since he was elected to the Senate, and he is likely to marry Amanda, so far as I understand the situation. And Charles doesn’t want to be President. Charles, in fact, cannot be President because he was born in London,” Deb said pointedly.

 

“You’re right,” Helena sighed. “I’ve been a terrible trollop, I know. But do you really think I won’t be elected as Governor as things stand?”

 

Both Deb and her assistant Sally nodded emphatically.

 

“Bugger,” Helena said softly.

 

Deb slid the folder across the conference table and Helena caught it, leafing through it idly.

 

“So, what does this entail, then?” she asked.

 

“We interview all of these women,” Deb said, indicating the folder with a jut of her eyebrow, “And we pick the right one, the one who wants what you want, which is for you to be elected Governor of California and then President of the United States. The one who will be the perfect match. And you have to keep it in your pants, Helena. No dalliances, no one night stands. Usually there is the expectation that the happy couple will agree to sleep together for at least as long as it takes to conceive a child; but in your case that’s not necessary for conception so you can deal with that part however you and the lucky lady want. You will adopt a child after you’ve been together for six months to a year, or if your wife is amenable she can carry a child, and if things go well, you’ll have another a year or two afterwards.”

 

Helena took in a long breath, pursing her lips. Children? They were talking about children? She hadn’t considered children; not since she’d lost her first child two weeks after her birth. Helena’s relationship with her husband Nathan had faltered after Christina’s death and Helena had never been interested in putting herself through that again. But she supposed that in the circumstances she needn’t get attached to the child; her ‘wife’ could deal with the children while she got on with her career. Children were all very well but her ambitions involved the Presidency, not a family.

 

“Fine,” she said, surprising herself perhaps as much as Deb Stanley. “Let’s do it. Find me a wife.”

 

She made her way back to her firm’s Washington office, passing her employees in the halls, taking no notice of the startled nods and frightened looks her thunderous expression was attracting. She’d built her legal practice up from a one-room setup in California, without any help from her father or Charles, and now it was one of the largest firms in the US, with offices in twelve major cities, dealing with everything from divorces to worldwide tort cases. She herself was an acknowledged expert on Constitutional Law, and had advised the White House on more than one occasion, which is how she had come to meet the President, Irene Frederic. She would be sad to leave the day-to-day running of her small empire to Steve – running the firm was endlessly fascinating. But if she was elected Governor and then President as Irene Frederic apparently wanted, she could make a real difference. She could make history. All she had to do, it seemed, was get a wife.

 

She dumped her coat and bag on the sofa and called Steve immediately. He was in her office within moments.

 

“What’s up, HG?” he said, settling his long body on the sofa after hanging up her coat and bag with a pointed look of disapproval.

 

“I’m getting married,” she said, deadpan, and then laughed as his face turned from surprise to confusion to anger.

 

“You met someone and you didn’t tell me?” he gasped, hand on his chest, looking every bit the outraged queen. It only made her laugh harder.

 

“ _I_ haven’t met her yet,” she said, taking a second to buzz her assistant in to get them some coffee.

 

“What?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing comically in confusion. Steve had been her best friend since she’d first opened her offices in DC. He was the first attorney she hired, and she trusted him implicitly.

 

She explained the situation to him, frowning the whole time in displeasure, and he sat back, rubbing his scalp and breathing in slowly.

 

“Wow. Just… wow. Are you sure you want to do this, HG?” he said, his face twisted in concern. His eyes were sparkling blue and so sincere – one of the many reasons why she loved him so dearly.

 

“I’m fairly sure I don’t,” she said, sighing. “But I’m not sure I have a choice, if I want to win this election.”

 

“Do you want to win it that badly?” Steve asked, his eyebrows raised.

 

“I think I do,” she said, slowly. “Yes. I want this. I’ve been working towards this, Steve. I could really make a difference. I could be President.”

 

“I know, but it just seems…” he trailed off.

 

“Distasteful? Dishonest? Yes, I know,” she said. “I know it sounds like a soundbite, Steve. But I really do want to make a difference. There is so much that I could do, as Governor, and later, as President, if things worked out.”

 

“I know, Helena. I know you mean it. I just hope it’s worth it,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee her assistant had delivered without Helena even noticing.

 

The following morning, Deb Stanley came to visit her at her office, with her assistant in tow.

 

“Well, Helena, we’ve narrowed it down to these two prospective candidates. Myka Bering and Giselle Katz. Both daughters of Washington royalty – Warren Bering, the Speaker of the House, and Jacob Katz, the Communications Director.”

 

Deb handed her two files this time. Helena had read up briefly on the details of these candidates and others, but had read nothing to interest her in either of these women. Myka Bering was a schoolteacher, and Giselle Katz was a socialite and raised money for rich people’s charities. Helena had met both of the women’s fathers at one point or another.

 

“I didn’t like the sound of either of these, Deb,” Helena complained, dropping the files on the desk. “What makes you think they’re more suitable than any of the others?”

 

Deb smiled at her, leaning forward and putting a hand on Helena’s knee.

 

“I know your type, Helena. Both of these ladies are your type. The others – there was nothing special about them. Have a look at the pictures.”

 

“All right,” Helena said, leaning back. “Let’s get on with this, then.”

 

Deb gestured towards the folders and Helena lifted them, opening the first one, which belonged to Giselle. The girl really was stunning – shoulder length red-gold hair, ice blue eyes, flawless skin. The information on her was a little depressing, however. It appeared that she was just a vapid socialite. She would be fun for one night, perhaps two. But wife material?

 

She put down Giselle’s file and lifted the other. Myka Bering, 29, previously married to a Secret Service Agent working on her father’s detail. She too was very attractive, but in a very different way. She was tall and willowy with bright green eyes, curly brown hair and a wonderfully genuine smile. Her husband, Sam Martino, had saved the Speaker’s life from an assassination attempt and took a bullet, dying later in hospital from his wounds. The newly widowed schoolteacher moved from Colorado to Washington to be closer to her family after her husband’s death. She worked at an elementary school and volunteered at an old people’s home, reading to the residents. She sounded like a very nice person, and a complete bore. Helena dropped her file on the desk.

 

“Neither of these women appeal to me, Deb. What is it you think they bring to the party, so to speak?” Helena asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs idly. She would have to start wearing skirts rather than her customary trouser suits, or so Claudia said. She wasn’t terribly happy about that, either.

 

“Giselle’s father would be a great ally. He has the ear of the press and of the President. He likes you and has been very supportive of your campaign thus far. Giselle herself is a little empty-headed, from what we’ve been able to discern, but she seems like the type who would be happy to play arm-candy and spend your money. Myka Bering’s father is the Speaker. He holds tremendous power, and if you get on his good side, you are virtually guaranteed VP at least after President Frederic finishes out her second term. Myka herself might be a better prospect in terms of an actual partner – she is bright and motivated and seems like a do-gooder. So it depends what you think would be better for you in the long term.”

 

Helena chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

 

“Okay. So what now?”

 

“We bring them both in, we explain the process, and we find out if they’re interested – after they sign several binding non-disclosure agreements. So even if they don’t want to go ahead with it, they can’t tell anyone without risking a serious financial penalty. If all that goes well, you meet them and make your choice.”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“Fine. Contact me when you have some news, then.”

 

Deb stood, shaking Helena’s hand before leaving briskly with Sally in her wake. Helena took a deep breath and got on with her day.

 

The following week blurred by in a string of meetings designed to make the handover of leadership smooth and difficulty-free. It was, however, not. As always, when people are involved, she thought, they will make life as difficult as possible. She was beginning the election campaign for real the following week, and was not looking forward to it one bit. Dealing with the press wasn’t her favourite part of her current job, and it would be a large part of her new one, should she be lucky enough to be elected.  This case with her idiot client would be her last, with any luck, as a practicing attorney. It wasn’t exactly a memorable last case but at least it was over quickly, allowing her to tie up loose ends and get ready for her move back to California. She had been splitting her time between California and Washington for years in preparation for running for the Gubernatorial elections, since one had to be a resident of California for at least four years in order to run for Governor.  

 

Deb called her on the Friday of that last week, asking her to come over to her offices to meet the prospective candidates. Helena went to see Steve on her way out.

 

“How do I look?” she asked, flipping her hair coquettishly at Steve and fluttering her eyelashes.

 

“You look hot, HG. As always. Are you really worried about how you look to the women who you’re arranging to marry for political gain?” he asked sceptically.

 

“I’m vain, I know,” she said, laughing. “But I don’t want to meet them looking awful. This woman could be with me for the rest of my political life. I don’t want to start off on the wrong footing.”

 

He nodded. “I guess.” He sighed, loudly, rubbing his scalp.

 

“What is it, Steve?”

 

“You really want to do this, Helena? Are you sure?” he asked. His concern was plain; he was worried for her. She sat next to him and put her hand on his arm.

 

“It’ll be okay, love. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“What’s the worst…? Have you thought about this? Like, really thought about it? What if she’s an awful human being? What if you meet the love of your life the day after you get married to this political wife of yours? This is a mistake, HG,” he said plaintively.

 

“I… I hadn’t really thought about it, Steve. I’m not looking for the love of my life, you know that. I don’t want that. I haven’t wanted that since Christina died and Nate left,” she said, looking out of his window at the view of the Capitol building.

 

He shook his head.

 

“Well maybe you should, Helena. Maybe it’s time to let yourself heal from that, to move on, to have a life,” he said, his voice soft and sympathetic. He’d met her just after Nate left, five months after Christina died. She was a wreck for a long time, only just able to function in anything other than a strictly professional environment. He had brought her back to herself, and she always took his advice seriously.

 

“I understand your concern, Steve. But right now I don’t care about any of that. I decided to focus on my career. I don’t want the complication of emotional attachments.”

 

He breathed in deeply.

 

“Okay, Helena. Okay. I love you, and I support you. I want you to be happy, that’s all.”  

 

He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and smiled at her.

 

“So, go get your girl. I want to meet her, okay?”

 

She nodded and squeezed his hand before leaving. She, too, hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

 

When she arrived at Deb’s office, Deb’s assistant Sally showed her to a side office and left her with some coffee and pastries. She picked at a croissant aimlessly for a few moments until Deb joined her.

 

“So, Helena. I have interviewed both candidates. They’re both articulate, intelligent women and are willing to meet with you to discuss the possibility of a political marriage, at least. The rest is up to you.”

 

Helena looked at her for a long moment.

 

“Okay. Let’s do this,” she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

 

Giselle Katz was the first candidate to come through. She was beautiful - looking very much like a younger and taller Amy Adams - well-spoken and articulate, and plainly interested in Helena. Her pupils dilated as Helena crossed her legs, and her eyes fell to the gaping neckline of Helena’s shirt, which was unbuttoned, as usual, just about as far as she could manage within the bounds of decency.

 

They chatted for a few moments before Giselle began to show her true colours.

 

“You are quite the prize,” Giselle said, laughing a delicate, tinkling laugh as she surveyed Helena covetously.

 

“Is that how you think of me?” Helena murmured, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

 

“Of course,” Giselle said, smiling. “Isn’t that the only way to think of this? As a contest, with you as the prize?”

 

Helena shrugged slightly, still watching closely.

 

“Some people would be concerned with compatibility, or with love, even,” she said, to see what reaction that would bring. Giselle’s face changed for an instant to a mixture of triumph and contempt, before seamlessly returning to her bland smile of a moment before. She thought that Helena was an easy target.

 

“I am open to love, of course,” Giselle said, leaning forward to put her hand on Helena’s arm for a moment, not too long. “I think we can all hope for love, can’t we, Miss Wells?”

 

Helena regarded her for a moment with a smile.

 

“Indeed we can. Thank you, Miss Katz. I think I know everything I need to,” Helena said with a smile, standing and offering her hand. Giselle stood, shaking Helena’s hand with both of hers, allowing her fingers to linger on Helena’s wrist for an extra moment.

 

“I hope to hear from you soon,” she said, walking out of the room with a coquettish glance back over her shoulder.

 

Helena sat back down in her chair as the door closed, sighing at the empty room. She didn’t know what she should have expected, but there were a hundred Giselles to be found in every bar in DC. Gold-diggers or power-hungry; it didn’t matter. Giselle was not the one for this… arrangement.

 

Deb stuck her head through the door.

 

“Are you ready for Myka, HG?”

 

“Yes, send her in,” Helena said with a weary smile.

 

Myka Bering was a different kettle of fish entirely. She was tall, striking, with a firm handshake and a soft smile. Her eyes widened momentarily when she entered the room, but other than that Helena couldn’t get much of a read on her.

 

“So, Ms Bering, tell me about yourself,” Helena said, watching the younger woman closely. There were five years between them in age; sometimes that was nothing, and sometimes it was a gulf that couldn’t be overcome.

 

Myka stretched out her long legs in front of her, clasping her hands in her lap as she collected her thoughts.

 

“Well, I’m a schoolteacher as I think you know. Elementary school.” Her face lit up. “I love teaching – the kids are amazing. They give me something new to laugh at every day.”

 

Helena smiled at her, slightly transfixed by Myka’s lopsided grin and obvious enthusiasm.

 

“So you’re doing what you love?”

 

“I do love it. I’m not sure it’s the only thing I could ever love – I kind of fell into it, but I really do love it.” Myka said, with a lopsided smile.

 

“So what made you agree to see me? Since, if you agreed to this proposition, you would have to eventually leave your job, perhaps for good?”

 

Myka frowned.

 

“Honestly, I thought it could be something we discussed. I wouldn’t want to give up teaching, at least not permanently. I would take time away for election campaigns if necessary, but I was hoping to continue teaching for a while at least.”

 

Helena lifted an eyebrow.

 

“The First Lady teaching elementary school?”

 

Myka snorted.

 

“What?” Helena asked.

 

“First Lady? They’re expecting you to get that far? When I thought you were a man, I believed it. But there’s no way they’ll elect a lesbian as President.”

 

Helena’s eyebrow went up, this time in a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

 

“Tell me, Myka, are you one of those unfortunates who believe that homosexuality is the root of all evil?”

 

Those who knew Helena called this her Iron Fist tone – all velvety and smooth on the outside, and hard and bruising underneath. Myka did not react to it, just continued to smile.

 

“No, I’m most certainly not. But my Dad and his cronies? Hell yes. You might get in as Governor of California, I don’t doubt you can do that, but the Presidency? They’d never stand for it. And they’d only be the ones in your own party. The other side – they would tear you to pieces.”

 

She wasn’t saying it to be cruel, Helena could tell. She simply believed that it wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Well, clearly you’re not afraid to speak your mind, Miss Bering.”

 

“Call me Myka,” she said, with a half-smile.

 

“Myka, then. Clearly you’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t think I have any chance at the Presidency.”

 

Myka shook her head, a little regretfully.

 

“So why are you here?”

 

“Honestly, because I was curious. I wanted to see this guy who thought I was a good match for him, a First Lady for the future President.”

 

“You never considered that it would be a woman?” Helena asked, archly.

 

“No,” Myka said, colouring slightly. “It didn’t even occur to me.”

 

“Interesting,” Helena said, narrowing her eyes slightly as she watched Myka carefully.

 

“In what way?” Myka asked.

 

“I am surprised that you’re so… conventional, in your thinking.”

 

“I am not conventional – but I also don’t think it’s going to work, so that’s probably why it never occurred to me,” Myka said, looking slightly flustered and verging on annoyed.

 

“Well, I suppose it’s just as well we got that out of the way,” Helena said, standing suddenly and holding out her hand with a polite smile on her face.

 

“What?” Myka asked, surprised.

 

“I mean, it’s just as well we cleared that up. My search for a suitable wife will have to go on,” she said, slightly dramatically.

 

Myka stood, looking definitely annoyed now.

 

“So because I don’t think people are going to vote for a gay President, that’s it? You’re not interested?” Myka demanded, towering over Helena in her heels.

 

Helena smiled, a little smugly.

 

“It’s very clear that you’re not suitable, Miss Bering. I am looking for a partner, not a cardboard cut-out like that other girl.” (Helena herself hadn’t realised that was what she wanted until that moment.) “We’d be spending a lot of time together, and I don’t need to bring someone along on this ride who doesn’t even believe in me.”

 

She was looking up at Myka but she had perfected, over the years, the art of dealing with people who were taller than her and making them feel too tall.

 

Myka looked at her for a moment, her head cocked to one side.

 

“Maybe you could convince me.”

 

Helena smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena tentatively courts Myka… quite a long chapter because I wanted to get some of the setup out of the way.

* * *

 

Deb suggested that they get to know each other a little before making any decisions. Myka had already agreed not to discuss the matter with anyone, signing a contract to that effect, so they went out for lunch at a nearby bistro. Helena ordered a pasta dish and Myka ordered a salad.

 

“So, what do you do for fun, Myka?” Helena asked, taking a sip of wine and watching Myka over the rim of the glass.

 

“I run – a lot, actually. Every morning. I go to a fencing club, and I like to shoot. I won a few competitions when I was younger.”

 

“For which? Shooting or fencing?” Helena asked, watching Myka as she warmed up to her subject, becoming more and more animated and using her hands more as she spoke.

 

“For both,” Myka said, smiling and blushing slightly. “I’ve always been athletic, and I did a lot of sports as a kid. I got really into fencing and shooting though. I was going to join the Secret Service but my dad didn’t want me to, and then I met Sam. He didn’t want me to join either. When he died, I decided not to apply. That’s when I went into teaching.”

 

Helena frowned.

 

“Yes, I was sorry to read about your husband. He was a very brave man.”

 

“He was an idiot,” Myka said flatly.

 

“I’m sorry…” Helena said, uncertainly.

 

“He got himself killed when he didn’t need to. My dad was already safe. He was trying to protect me, and I didn’t need protecting – the guy wasn’t even shooting at me. Sam was just playing the hero,” Myka said, her face reddening and her jaw tight.

 

Helena leaned forward a little to touch Myka’s hand gently.

 

“Either way, I’m sure it must have been very difficult for you to lose him, and I am sorry.”

 

Myka nodded, her posture relaxing a little.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I just – I get tired of hearing that. I got tired of hearing it a long time ago. I loved Sam, but there were times when he was such an idiot. I delayed joining the Secret Service because he didn’t want me putting myself in harm’s way, and I regret it, because maybe if I’d been trained he wouldn’t have felt the need to try to save me when I didn’t even need saving.”

 

“Of course. I understand.”

 

“Do you?” Myka asked, tilting her head slightly.

 

“I believe so. You have mixed feelings of anger and probably guilt as well as grief, and it makes you angry when people assume that your husband was a hero and you must be the grieving widow,” Helena said, watching Myka carefully. So far she found the woman refreshingly forthcoming.

 

Myka nodded, watching Helena just as carefully, it appeared. Their food arrived at that moment, and Myka turned her attention to her salad for a few moments, and Helena took the time to enjoy the excellent food and also to watch Myka as she ate. She was precise and neat, taking small mouthfuls. Helena tried not to make any premature assumptions, but she was struck with the notion that Myka had issues with control, and that in some way it was related to food.

 

“So, what do you do in your free time? Do you have any free time?” Myka asked, quite derailing Helena’s train of thought.

 

“I don’t have a great deal of free time. I run a large law firm with offices in 12 cities. I spend a lot of time working, even when I’m at home. I go out for the occasional date,” she began, and at Myka’s derisive snort, suddenly stopped.

 

“What?” Helena asked, slightly annoyed, dabbing at her lip with a napkin.

 

“Dates?” Myka asked, raising an eyebrow and not bothering to hide her smirk.

 

“Well, what do you call them? One night stands? Dinner and a shag?”

 

“At least you’re honest about it,” Myka said, chuckling.

 

“Does it bother you?” Helena asked, more quietly.

 

Myka looked thoughtful for a moment.

 

“It doesn’t bother me as such, I just find it difficult to understand the impulse to sleep with someone you’ve just met. Let alone a lot of someones.”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“I understand that. I just haven’t felt the impulse to connect with anyone in a more meaningful way for some time, and this is a way to scratch an itch. And it has saved me an absolute fortune on gym fees,” she said, grinning wolfishly as Myka rolled her eyes.

 

“So, you don’t want to connect in any meaningful way. Why is that?” Myka asked, watching Helena closely. Clearly, she wasn’t going to let Helena get away with joking her way out of anything. Helena thought for a moment before she spoke.

 

“Do you know my history, Myka?”

 

Myka shrugged.

 

“I don’t. Not really. My father has mentioned you a few times, and your company and how they have helped out at the White House, and I’ve seen pictures of you on your ‘dates’ on a few gossip sites. But that’s about it.”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“Well, I know your personal tragedy, so you should know mine, I suppose. I was married and I had a baby girl. Two weeks later she died. They called it Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. My relationship with my husband began to disintegrate shortly after. After five months, he left me. I moved to DC temporarily to open our offices here, to give myself something else to concentrate on. I met the man who became my best friend, Steve, and another close friend Claudia, who is now my Campaign Manager, and things slowly improved for me. But my mental health was shaky for a long time, and after what happened, I have no particular desire to deal with that kind of pain again. I’m sure you understand. So perhaps I’ve been a bit of a trollop, but Nate left me at the worst time of my life and I have trouble trusting anyone these days,” she said, her voice toneless. She wasn’t meeting Myka’s eyes, and she knew that this was probably exactly the sort of thing she shouldn’t say to someone who she was trying to convince to be her political wife.

 

“I didn’t know, Helena,” Myka said softly. “That’s… I’m so sorry. I know that must have felt like such a betrayal.”

 

Helena looked up, and was surprised to see tears shining in Myka’s eyes. She was a truly genuine person, by all appearances – an oddity in Washington.

 

“Thank you, Myka,” Helena said, taking another sip of wine.

 

They ate in silence for a while longer, and after their meal, Myka suggested they take a walk. The river was close by, so they walked along for a short time in silence, and then Myka stopped, leaning her elbows on the wall overlooking the Potomac.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked suddenly, looking out over the river.

 

“Looking for a political wife, you mean?” Helena asked, standing beside Myka and mirroring her posture.

 

“Yes. It’s a bit of an outlandish idea.”

 

“It is. That’s how I feel about it, to be honest. But apparently I’ve been such a giant slapper that I’ve alienated some of the more conservative factions who I need to court for my campaign,” Helena said, sighing. “I don’t like the idea much. It feels dishonest. But I really do believe that I could do good, that I can make a real difference. Human rights, gun control, immigration, electoral reform – I could make some serious changes, Myka. And if this is the only way, then I will do it. I’ll do whatever it takes. I know it’s a hard sell, a bisexual woman with an English accent and a questionable sexual history, but I want this. I want to do the job, and I want to make things right. This country was founded on principles that I believe in, and I think we are at a bit of a crossroads where things could go one way or another. I’d like to steer it in the right direction.”

 

She turned her head slightly to look at Myka, and was surprised, once again, to see tears in the other woman’s eyes.

 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Myka breathed.

 

“Of course,” Helena said, frowning slightly. Why else would she be considering marrying someone she’d only just met?

 

“I thought you were one of those power-hungry monsters who would do anything to get where they want. But that’s not it at all. You really want to change the world.”

 

“I do,” Helena said simply.

 

“Okay. I need to… I need to process this. Can I call you?” Myka asked, taking a deep breath.

 

“Of course,” Helena said, taking her phone from her pocket. She gave Myka her number and they parted ways.

 

~

 

Helena returned to her office, turning her mind to tying up the matters that she had left outstanding. After several hours, Steve came by again to visit.

 

“So, how was it?” he asked, flopping once again on the comfortable sofa – so comfortable, in fact, that Helena was considering having it shipped to California for her office there.

 

“It was… surprisingly okay,” she said, searching out the file that Deb had provided her on Myka Bering. She went to sit by Steve and gave him the folder.

 

“The first girl was a gold-digger, but this one – she’s interesting. Genuine, and she told me straight out that she didn’t believe for a moment that a lesbian would be elected President. I like her, she’s smart, she’s bold, and she’s intriguing.”

 

Steve looked up from the folder and raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“You like her. I haven’t heard you this enthusiastic for a long time.”

 

She thought for a moment, and then smiled.

 

“I do. She interests me. I think that’s more than I’d hoped for, really. I expected them to find me someone pretty and brainless, but this one – she’s something else. I find myself in the unusual position of waiting to hear from a woman, and I’m nervous.”

 

Steve chuckled.

 

“Serves you right, with all the women you’ve left hanging over the years,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his.

 

She glared at him for a moment, and then laughed.

 

Several hours later Helena received a text message from Myka’s number.

 

_“Dinner?”_

 

She smiled and sent back a text suggesting a restaurant nearby. They agreed to meet later that evening. Helena went back to work for an hour and then back to her apartment to get ready.

 

When she entered the restaurant, Myka was already seated, sipping at a glass of red wine. She stood as Helena approached the table. That morning she had been wearing a trouser suit, very much like Helena’s, but now she was in a dark green dress with a halter neck, and her hair was up in a tight twist. She looked stunning. Helena, too, was dressed up, but still in a trouser suit – she had upgraded to a silk waistcoat and shirt, however, in burgundy and white respectively.

 

“Good evening, Myka,” she said, taking Myka’s hand and kissing it before sitting down, “you look beautiful.”

 

Myka blushed slightly.

 

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, arching an eyebrow at Helena’s apparel.

 

They ordered quickly – Helena had chosen this restaurant specifically for the efficient wait staff – and chatted briefly about the weather and traffic, before Myka cleared her throat, taking a sip of her wine before speaking.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this… this thing,” she began.

 

Helena nodded. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

 

“It’s big. This idea of Miss Stanley’s. It would be a huge change for me.”

 

“Of course,” Helena said, nodding.

 

“My instinct was to say no – as you probably guessed.”

 

Helena nodded again, this time with a slight smile.

 

“But somehow you… you made me believe that you meant what you said, that you are going to try to make a difference. So I have to weigh that up – maybe 4 years as Governor of California, followed by a potential two terms as President. That’s twelve years of time in which you could be making changes, improving lives for people in your state and then in the whole country. Potentially the world. Which could be amazing. To be part of something that meaningful – that would be unbelievable.”

 

Helena watched her carefully.

 

“The only question mark is you. Well, there’s the whole fact that you’re a woman, too. But you interest me. I just don’t know who you are, why you want to help. I don’t know what makes you tick. And it’s possible that you’re just another power-hungry asshole who talks the talk well enough to fool me,” Myka said, swirling the wine in her glass thoughtfully.

 

“And how do you propose to address that question mark?” Helena asked, watching Myka from beneath lowered eyelashes.

 

“I was hoping you might have some ideas,” Myka said.

 

“Okay, then,” Helena said, thinking. It was fair, really. Myka didn’t know her. Most politicians were in it for themselves.  Helena hadn’t considered politics, not truly, until Christina had died and Nate left. Something about that experience had changed her outlook, and even she wasn’t sure why.

 

“What do you need to know?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know. I guess maybe where you came from, your family – that might be a start.”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“Do you have plans for the weekend?” she asked, gesturing for the waiter to bring the bill.

 

“No,” Myka said.

 

“In that case, will you give me the next 48 hours of your time?” Helena asked, tilting her head. “So that you can get to know me, and make your decision?”

 

Myka nodded.

 

They were in a car and, after a quick stop at Myka’s apartment for some clothes, at the airport within 30 minutes. Helena’s family was wealthy, and a private jet belonging to her father’s company, a worldwide financial concern, was available to her most of the time. They landed in New Hampshire just over an hour later and were at Helena’s family home half an hour after that. They were met at the door by the housekeeper who settled them in for the night in guest rooms; Helena’s childhood room had long since been converted into an additional guest room. Myka seemed fine when Helena saw her off to her room for the evening, and Helena went to bed with her mind racing as to how she would convince Myka that this was a good idea, when she was completely unsure herself.

 

~

 

The following morning Myka was seated outside on the patio drinking orange juice when Helena came downstairs, dressed casually in jeans and a comfortable blue shirt. Myka was wearing a similar outfit.

 

“Good morning,” Helena said.

 

“Good morning,” Myka said, smiling slightly, her head tilted knowingly. She clearly had something on her mind.  

 

“What is it?” Helena asked.

 

“No wonder you’re running for Governor. Your whole family is probably in politics, am I right?” she said, indicating the grand home and estate with a sweep of her arm.

 

“Well, not all of them,” Helena said, sitting down and helping herself to some fruit salad, “my father is a businessman, but my brother Charles is a Senator.”

 

“My dad was the first person in our family to have any interest in politics. Before he became a Senator, he owned a bookshop. He sold it a few years back, but that’s where I grew up.”

 

“And you think that because I grew up here, it means I am more likely to be power hungry and entitled because I never learned the value of money?”

 

Myka nodded, reddening slightly.

 

“Well, it’s a fair assumption,” Helena said, taking a sip of orange juice. “But I know very well the value of money. I started my practice in an extremely run down area of Los Angeles, and I started it with my own money, the money I saved from a variety of jobs I took when I was at law school. I didn’t have to, as my father was happy to pay for it, but I wanted to see what real problems there were in the world. I didn’t want to carry on living with the padding of privilege always there to save me. I know it’s not the same as actually being poor and desperate – I could have called my father or even my brother at any time, so perhaps it doesn’t count, to you. But for a long time I struggled to make ends meet, and my clients were illegal immigrants, prostitutes, the homeless. Somehow I still ended up teaching constitutional law in Washington and advising the President occasionally, but that’s not how I started out.”

 

Myka nodded, smiling.

 

“I can introduce you to some of my clients, should you ever find yourself in LA for any reason,” Helena said.

 

“I think I’d like that,” Myka said. “But not to convince me that you know the value of money or that you’re a compassionate person. I can tell from the way you were just talking about your clients that you care. As to the money side – that remains to be seen, I suppose. Was there… there was someone in LA who made an impression on you, wasn’t there?”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“Who was it?”

 

“He was called William. An ex-pat from the UK. He was homeless, and raving, and smelled like an open sewer. He was attacked and somehow he was the one who ended up in jail. I let him stay with me for a while as his case progressed, and he managed to clean himself up and get medicated for his condition – paranoid schizophrenia. I speak to him every weekend, either in person or by Skype. He works for a charity now in Los Angeles and is married to a wonderful woman called Kelly, who was also a client. INS were trying to deport her; I managed to prove her right to citizenship.”

 

Myka nodded, smiling again.

 

Helena finished her fruit salad and had a sudden thought. It had been some time since she had been back home and she hadn’t been out for a ride in… well, she wasn’t actually sure how long.

 

“Tell me, Myka. Do you ride?”

 

It turned out that Myka was, in fact, a more than competent rider. She had a very pretty seat (Helena mentally chuckled at the unintended double entendre) and Charles’ horse, Griffin, took to her immediately, which was unusual since he was known for his temper. Helena’s horse, Moreau, was a beautiful palomino with a slightly nervous disposition. They rode at a gallop for a while until Helena judged that Moreau had worn herself out a little.

 

When they slowed down, Helena turned to find that Myka was smiling widely.

 

“It’s been so long since I’ve been riding. I think I’ve been in DC too long,” she said.

 

“Well I am a member of a club just outside Los Angeles, so if you decide to go ahead with this, we can always get you membership,” Helena said lightly.

 

Myka frowned.

 

“I still… I can’t believe I’m considering this,” she said, looking entirely confused.

 

“You don’t have to, Myka,” Helena said gently, trying to ignore how much her own stomach had just dropped. “All you actually need to do is to remain quiet about the situation; other than that you are under no obligation. I would never ask you to do something you don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t know that I don’t want to,” Myka said, frustrated. “I don’t understand myself at all, right now.”

 

“Just give yourself some breathing space, then,” Helena advised. “There’s no harm in spending the weekend here, is there?”

 

“I suppose not,” Myka said, chewing on her lip for a moment.

 

Helena smiled at her and then urged Moreau into a gentle canter, and Griffin followed the mare with little urging from Myka.

 

After an hour or so they returned the horses to the stables and went to their separate rooms to bathe. The smell of horse sweat was not exactly awful, but it certainly wasn’t a scent Helena wanted to carry around with her for the remainder of the day. They talked about current affairs for a little while, and then had lunch, an informal affair of sandwiches and tea. After lunch Helena’s father returned from a business lunch, and Helena introduced them.

 

“Myka, this is Charles Wells Senior, and Dad, this is Myka. She’s the lady I was telling you about,” she said, hoping her father would remember the sensitivity of the situation.

 

“Ah, Myka. I know your father, Warren – the Speaker. We’ve shared a few brandies over the years. I was very sorry to hear about your husband,” he boomed. Charles Wells had a tendency to boom rather than speak, and his face was almost always flushed and sweaty. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored suit, but it was rumpled and unkempt. His previously black hair was balding and greying. He tried to keep it neat but it inevitably ended up looking windswept and sweaty. He looked fairly atrocious for the most part, but Helena could only ever look at him fondly. No matter what she’d done in her life, he had supported her 100%, not just financially but emotionally. He cared enormously for his children and had always been a stalwart support for both children. Their mother, a rather famous British actress, had walked out on her two infant children and left them with their father, causing quite the scandal at the time. By all accounts, Charles Senior had been incredibly inept when it came to looking after his children, but rather than leave their care to a nanny he jumped in with both feet. Helena loved him fiercely.

 

Myka flushed when Helena’s father offered his condolences, but inclined her head politely nonetheless.

 

“Thank you, Mr Wells. It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, and he took her hand and shook it enthusiastically. Myka’s polite smile edged over into genuine territory as she took in his bright smile and rather daft facial expression.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Myka,” he said, not letting go of her hand.

 

“Dad, let the girl go, you’ll frighten her,” Helena said fondly, putting her hand on her Dad’s shoulder. He let go immediately, smiling, and both Helena and Myka laughed.

 

“My father is a little enthusiastic,” Helena said, chuckling.

 

“Nothing wrong with enthusiasm,” Myka said with a genuine smile.

 

“That’s what I always say,” Charles said, “but these two are always telling me to tone it down. All day I have to be polite and business-like; I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to let my hair down when I come home. And especially when I see my little Hell’s Bells.” He hugged Helena to him, and she rearranged a few errant strands of his hair that were stuck to his rather sweaty forehead, smiling at him fondly.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a rather pleasant blur. Helena’s father was, if a little unkempt and occasionally embarrassing, a very entertaining conversationalist, and he won Myka over straight away. Sometime late that afternoon after endless cups of tea and the bringing out of the dreaded baby photos, Helena’s brother Charles arrived with his girlfriend Amanda in tow. She was a stunning blonde lady with almond shaped blue eyes and lips that Angelina Jolie would have killed for. Helena herself had carried quite the torch for Amanda at one stage; sadly, the woman only had eyes for Charles. And he feeling was mutual – Charles was besotted.

 

Introductions were made and after a few minutes, Helena left Myka in the company of Amanda and her father, and she and Charles made their excuses, ostensibly to find some decent Scotch, but the real reason was that Helena could tell that her older brother wanted to know who Myka was and where she’d come from. Helena had had time to inform her father of the situation when Myka was asleep on the flight, but there hadn’t been quite enough time to tell Charles. She filled him in as they went to the kitchen and annoyed the kitchen staff into providing them with snacks and Scotch.

 

“A political marriage, Helena? What on earth are you thinking?” he sputtered, taking a large swallow of the Scotch and then grimacing.

 

“I was acting on the advice of my fixer – Deb Stanley. She says that with my history of philandering, I’m never going to win the election. So this is her solution. We’re playing it as a whirlwind romance, with my heart being won by a wonderful schoolteacher from Colorado – a real American woman. Deb thinks the press will eat it up, and while it won’t win me any more of the traditional vote, it will win me some of those on the more moderate side who thought I was just a power-hungry trollop.”

 

He sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Who is this Deb Stanley anyway? I’ve never heard of her!” he ranted, gesticulating wildly.

 

“I got her number from Arthur Nielsen. She is Irene Frederic’s fixer.”

 

That shut him up. He stared at her for a moment, took another large swallow of Scotch, and sputtered again unintelligibly before sighing.

 

“Are you sure about this, Hels?”

 

She laughed.

 

“Of course I’m not bloody sure, Charlie. But she is different, this girl. She seems like she’s actually genuine.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” he retorted.

 

“Me too,” she murmured.

 

They returned with their booty and soon everyone was sighing in satisfaction at the smooth Scotch. Myka, Helena noted, was leaning back, her eyes closed as she sipped her drink, a slight smile on her face.

 

They were called to dinner approximately three scotches later, and the room was beginning to look smoky to Helena, as it usually did when she drank too much. They ate some much needed protein and carbohydrates, served up by their long-suffering kitchen staff, and enjoyed a slightly raucous dinner where they shared their most embarrassing (non-sexual) moments. Amanda won the impromptu contest with her story of peeing behind a hedge when she was in college and extremely drunk, only to find that behind her was a large family enjoying their dinner outside in their garden.

 

“The worst part was that they invited me and my friends to have some dinner, and we ended up eating grilled steaks and salad with this wonderful Greek family who had just watched me peeing in their gardenias.”

 

“No way that’s true,” Myka said, with a little laugh-snort combo that made Helena bark out a laugh of surprise.

 

“It’s true,” Amanda said, gesticulating with her glass. “I see them every Christmas. Their son has proposed marriage three times.”

 

They agreed that Amanda’s story was the best, and saluted her drunkenly. After dinner Helena noticed that Myka appeared to be wilting, and so invited her to take a walk in the garden, which was lovely at night.

 

“So, what do you think of my mad family?” Helena asked, smiling as Myka linked their arms together, presumably for support, as she seemed to be a little worse for wear from all the drinking.

 

“I think they’re amazing,” Myka said, slightly dreamily. “Your dad – he loves you so much. I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

 

Helena frowned. The Speaker, Warren Bering, always came across as a congenial and pleasant man. Apparently his daughter’s experience of him was not quite that positive.

 

“What do you mean, Myka?” she asked, gently. “Do you think that your father doesn’t care?”

 

“No, not exactly,” Myka said, stopping to look at one of the water features in the garden, a large fountain with several koi carp swimming around in the pool at the base. There were lights underneath, making the carp’s scales glint metallically.

 

“I… I know he loves me. He does. But he’s so… cold. He would always hug Tracy – she’s my younger sister - and he’d tell her how good she was, but me – it was like I could never do anything right, you know? Like I was just the stupid older sister with the big feet who broke things. I could never make him happy, no matter how good my grades were.”

 

Helena looked at her sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Myka. He seems like a nice bloke, but I suppose we all have our public faces, don’t we? You turned out wonderfully regardless, if that makes any difference.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, swaying a little.

 

“I think perhaps it might be time for you to get some sleep, Myka – what do you think? It’s been a long day,” Helena said, putting her arm round Myka’s waist and giving her a quick, supportive hug.

 

“Yeah,” Myka said, yawning suddenly. “I think you’re right.”

 

They walked back through the garden and Helena left Myka at the door of her room with wishes for a pleasant night’s sleep. Myka smiled and returned the sentiment, but she appeared somehow to have turned inward, lost in her thoughts. Helena went back downstairs to sit with her family.

 

“She’s a keeper, Hell’s Bells,” her father said, smiling at her so widely that she couldn’t not return it.

 

“Do you think so, Daddy?” she asked, pouring herself another drink and sitting next to Charlie.

 

“We all do,” Charlie said, patting her knee. “She seems lovely, and as you said, genuine. Not what I would have expected for a political marriage, but I think she’ll be good for you,” he said.

 

“I really like her,” Amanda said.

 

“Good,” Helena said, smiling around at them all. “Just remember, though, she still hasn’t agreed to do this. So don’t be too full on with her, Dad – or you, Charlie. No big brother speech. There’s nothing romantic between us – or at least not yet, and if there is ever going to be, I need you not to frighten her off. Even if there isn’t, we could have a long partnership ahead of us, so don’t overdo it.”

 

“Nothing romantic my arse,” Charlie scoffed. “You couldn’t take your eyes off her the whole day, Hels.”

 

Amanda piped up, “And she couldn’t stop looking at you when she thought you weren’t looking.”

 

Helena felt something in her chest tighten. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time – something she had no time for now. So she simply smiled enigmatically and, after finishing her drink, made her way to bed to spend the night tossing and turning. She wasn’t – couldn’t – be falling in love with Myka Bering, a woman she had only just met. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, allow this to come between her and the Presidency. Too much was at stake.

 

~

The following morning, they all shared a quiet breakfast on the patio – this time, rather than fruit salad, Helena helped herself to large portions of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, pancakes and toast – all the better to soak up the excess alcohol. She also drank a non-diet cola, unusually for her. She’d discovered during her student days that full-fat cola was very helpful in combating a hangover. She recommended it quietly to Myka, who, despite murmuring that she didn’t eat sugar, tried it anyway and found that it helped her headache and nausea enormously.

 

“It always worked for me in college,” Helena said, smiling. Myka looked tired but incredibly beautiful, wearing loose fitting, comfortable clothing. Her hair was loose and rather wild about her shoulders, and she was wearing glasses.

 

“I didn’t know you needed glasses,” Helena said quietly as they sipped tea (coffee for Myka) after breakfast.

 

“I wear contacts, normally,” Myka said, smiling wryly. “For some reason I couldn’t quite bear the idea of putting them in this morning.”

 

“I am sorry that we got you so drunk last night,” Helena said.

 

“Don’t be silly, Helena. I’m an adult. I know my limits, but I was just having a lot of fun with you guys and I had a little too much.”

 

“Nonsense,” Charles Senior boomed, causing everyone around the table to wince. “There’s no such thing as too much good Scotch.”

 

“I’ll have to take your word for it, Mr Wells,” Myka said with a small smile.

 

Mercifully, he just grinned in reply. He was none the worse for wear, as usual. Helena’s father had an extraordinary capacity for alcohol consumption that so far remained unbeaten.

 

They decided, after some discussion, to go to a nearby golf course and play for a while, in the hope that the fresh air would help dissipate the remaining hangover symptoms, and they would then eat at the clubhouse, where Helena’s family were all members. She lent some of her golfing gear to Myka. The trousers were a little short, but passable.

 

“Do you play?” she asked Myka as they were driven to the golf course by Jeff Weaver, the member of staff who doubled as a driver and stablemaster.

 

“I have played in the past with my dad but I’m not any good at it, really. Give me a gun or an épée and I’m good, but a golf club? Not so much.”

 

Helena smiled at her.

 

“Perhaps I can give you a few hints to improve your game.”

 

Myka nodded, almost shyly.

 

They were set up quickly and off, followed by caddies in two golf carts. Helena’s father was an important member and despite his usual habit of walking the entire course, the management wanted to be sure that he always had a golf cart within a short distance. Myka was not a terrible golfer, nor was she particularly good. Helena noted that her posture was entirely wrong on her swing, and at Charlie’s raised eyebrow, went to assist her.

 

“This feels like a bad romantic comedy,” she thought as she stood behind Myka with her arms around her, helping her to correct her swing. She couldn’t help but notice, however, how lean and warm and pleasant Myka’s body felt against hers. She was fairly sure from Myka’s blush that she, too, had enjoyed the contact. Myka was a quick learner, too, it appeared, because she improved enormously within the few hours they spent wandering the course, chatting and generally enjoying the beautiful weather and fresh breeze.

 

They did utilise the golf carts in the end, since Charlie melodramatically claimed to be spent, after he won their little game decisively. Only Helena was anywhere close to his level; everyone else trailed behind.

 

“That’s why he’s a senator and I’m just a businessman,” said Charles Senior to Myka on the way back to the clubhouse. “Politicians respond very well to those they consider as ‘winners’ and I’m afraid with my lack of golfing prowess rather rules me out of the upper echelons of government.”

 

Myka smiled, and Helena rolled her eyes.

 

“Don’t listen to him, Myka. The old fraud has a finger in every pie in Washington. He prefers to direct from the shadows. He’s the man behind the curtain, the puppetmaster.”

 

Charles chuckled loudly – he did everything loudly. Myka laughed, too. She was clearly very fond of Helena’s father already. Helena hoped that was a good sign.

 

They enjoyed a wonderful lunch at the clubhouse, and Helena noticed that Myka indulged herself somewhat by ordering fish and chips, which was a specialty at this particularly clubhouse in honour of Charles, since it was his favourite food.

 

“This is delicious,” Myka said, clearly savouring every mouthful and digging into the tartare sauce with gusto.

 

“It is rather, isn’t it?” Helena said, enjoying her own fish and chips just as much. It had been a long time since she’d lived in England – she moved to the States at 15 – but there was nothing like fish and chips when you needed comfort food.

 

They returned to the house after lunch. They were all too full to order dessert so they returned to the house for coffee, after which Charles Senior retired to his study, ostensibly to do some work. Helena was well aware, however, that when her father was at home, he had a nap in his study each afternoon after catching up with the sports results on television. Charles and Amanda also retired to their rooms to spend some time alone. Charlie waggled his eyebrows when he said that, and Amanda punched him in the ribs, dragging him out of the room.

 

“Your family are pretty wonderful, Helena,” Myka said as she sipped her coffee. They were sitting in the informal living room where there was a large television and an extremely comfortable sofa with reclining seats. The television was playing a rerun of some old Western in the background.

 

“They are a nice bunch. We are hoping that Charlie will pop the question soon. He and Amanda have been together for over four years now.”

 

“Wow. That’s a long time. They seem really happy together,” Myka remarked, playing with her hair in what seemed to be a self-comforting gesture.

 

“Yes, I think they are,” Helena said. “Would you like to go and have a rest upstairs, Myka? You seem a little tired, or overwhelmed perhaps. I know this is a lot.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Myka said. “I am quite happy here, actually. If I fall asleep here, I won’t disturb anyone, will I?”

 

“No, not at all,” Helena said. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

 

“No, stay. Tell me a little more about yourself.”

 

So Helena did. She told Myka about her move to the States, which had been entirely against her will at the time. She was quite a moody teenager and was incensed that she had to move to a different country because her father’s job had changed. She soon settled, however, and concentrated hard on her studies, eventually graduating from Harvard Law. She started her own practice rather than taking any of the dozens of job offers she was inundated with at the time, moving to a very run-down area of LA to make her mark. She was beginning to tell Myka about William Wolcott, the homeless man she had defended and assisted when he was attacked by a group of drunken young men, when she noticed that the other woman was fast asleep, breathing in little snorts. She looked incredibly beautiful and vulnerable at that moment, and Helena felt her heart constrict at the sight. She got up as quietly as possible, removed Myka’s glasses without waking her, and pulled a throw from the back of the sofa, covering Myka with it. There was nothing worse than being woken from a nice nap by the cold. Helena went to retrieve her laptop from her bag and sat back on the sofa, reclining her own chair and working until she was alerted by a change in Myka’s breathing.

 

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said, as she turned to meet beautiful green eyes, glassy from sleep.

 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Myka said dryly. “Conscious is about as far as I would go right now. And I’m not even sure about that.”

 

“Would you like to go for a walk before dinner?” Helena asked, sending the email she’d been working on and closing her laptop.

 

“That would be nice, yes,” Myka said, sitting up slowly and looking around for her glasses.

 

“Sorry. I thought they’d be uncomfortable for you to wear while you were sleeping. They’re on the coffee table next to you.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, retrieving them. She put them back on and as she turned to look at Helena, the light hit her a certain way and her eyes shone so brightly that Helena almost gasped. She spoke sternly to herself for a moment, telling herself that it was just simple attraction, and that she needed to get her libido under control.

 

“Are you okay, Helena?” Myka asked, looking suddenly concerned.

 

“Ah… yes, of course. I just remembered something that I need to make sure is done before I leave tomorrow, that’s all. Shall we take that walk?”

 

She stood briskly and Myka followed her as she strode through the dining area and out the French doors onto the patio. They wandered for a while in the garden and then Helena’s feet took her to the stables, where Moreau nickered as she recognised Helena’s scent. Helena stroked her horse’s long nose and fed her a sugar cube that she produced from a pocket.

 

“You really love these guys, don’t you?” Myka said, watching her carefully.

 

“Of course,” Helena said. “They give us so much, and ask for so little in return. When I was younger I always came here when I needed to make a decision. They always gave me a sense of peace that helped me calm down and realise what I really wanted. I owe them so much.”

 

Myka was giving her that look again, where she looked like she might cry. Helena was inexplicably annoyed by it, but let none of her annoyance show. It was perhaps that it was an indication that Myka had pre-judged her as an empty headed power hungry trust fund child, and was surprised by anything that indicated otherwise.

 

“Speaking of decisions,” Myka began.

 

“Yes?” Helena said, trying not to sound too hopeful.

 

“I think… I think I’ve decided.”

 

“And?” Helena asked, after a moment.

 

“I think I want to do this. I want to be your wife.”

 

Those words, for some reason, drove the air from Helena’s lungs for a moment. This was, after all, the reason why they were here. For Myka to make a determination about who Helena was and whether she believed in Helena or not. But the words themselves – I want to be your wife – well, they were certainly open to interpretation.

 

Helena turned away from Moreau and looked at Myka carefully.

 

“Are you sure this is what you want, Myka?”

 

“I don’t know what I want, Helena. I think that’s been part of my problem for a while now. I had a plan – I was going to be a Secret Service Agent. I was going to protect some of the most important people in the country, maybe even the President, one day. I had a plan, and then Sam came along, and I loved him so much, you know? I just… I fell, and I fell hard, and I let him change my mind, I let him persuade me to go into teaching, at least for a while, and then everything happened with the shooting and I didn’t know what to do. I thought about applying then, for the Secret Service, I mean. But I didn’t want to make any hasty decisions. So I waited, and I got a job at this elementary school, and the kids are so amazing, Helena. I fell in love with the job, and I kind of got stuck. So when Deb’s guys approached me, I was curious. I wondered if maybe I could be part of something bigger, you know? And then I met you.”

 

Myka started walking up and down, pacing close enough that Helena could still hear her, but clearly trying to get rid of some excess energy or tension.

 

“I wasn’t sure because you were a woman, and because you were a philandering woman at that. And you’re rich and clever and English and I just… I didn’t know if I should believe in you, if you were the kind of person that would really make a difference. And then I met your family. Your Dad – Jesus, Helena. He’s like the opposite of what I thought he would be. He’s a rich fat cat like my Dad and his friends but he’s a real person, like he cares and he laughs and he looks silly and he doesn’t care, and he gets drunk with his kids and he _cares_ , Helena. I never expected that. And you – I couldn’t really get a read on you, back in Washington, because you were reserved and calm and you were testing me, too. But then I saw you riding, I saw the way you treat your horses, I saw the way you are with your Dad and Charlie. And unless you’re the best actress in the world, Helena Wells, you’re the real deal. You really care and you’re doing this to try to make a difference.”

 

She paused in her pacing to look at Helena, to look _into_ Helena, it felt like.

 

“You’re the real deal. And I want to help. I would pretty much do whatever you needed if I had the skill, but in this case the best thing I can offer you is to be your wife. And the other thing I’m going to be, Helena, is your tether. Because I’ve seen what power does to people. My Mom is a Washington widow. She never sees my Dad anymore. I moved here to be near them both after Sam died, but eventually, Dad just drifted away and started ignoring Mom. He spends all his time with his cronies drinking and eating at exclusive clubs and doing God knows what – or God knows who – and my Mom is all alone, living in a big house in Colorado Springs on her own. She stayed in Washington for as long as she could bear it, but after a while she realised that she might as well stay at home and see Tracy and her kids, since my Dad ignored her all the time anyway. I don’t want you to become that, so you have to agree, before we do this. You have to agree to listen to me, to try not to become that person that I’m afraid you could. Can you promise me that?”

 

All Helena could do was nod, and walk towards Myka, taking her hands.

 

“I promise,” she breathed. Every cell, every atom in her body was pushing her, pushing her towards Myka Bering, this luminous wonder of a woman, telling her to kiss Myka, to show her what she had come to mean in this incredibly short period of time. But the other part - the part that still lived in fear of the rejection she’d experienced at the hands of her husband - that part made her back off, smile a little stiffly, and sketch a small bow.

 

Myka smiled at her a little uncertainly, her breath heaving and her face a little red. Had she…? She couldn’t have _wanted_ Helena to kiss her, surely?

 

“I have one question, Myka,” Helena said, eventually, after a long moment of just looking at Myka, enjoying the bright colour of her eyes, and the golden nebulae therein. She laughed internally at her own romanticism.

 

“Yes?” Myka breathed, stepping a little closer.

 

“You… Are you straight, Myka? It’s just – we will have to behave as if we are a married couple. As if we are in love. If you want to do this. Which means…” Helena trailed off.

 

“Which means we’re going to have to get comfortable with each other, physically,” Myka finished for her.

 

“Yes,” Helena said, reluctantly.

 

“I’m not straight,” Myka said, stepping forward again and taking Helena’s hand. “I’m not exactly experienced with women, but I’ve kissed a few.”

 

“College experimentation?” Helena guessed, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Something like that,” Myka said, and she leaned forward, kissing Helena softly for a long moment, her hand running up Helena’s arm to cup the back of her neck.

 

Helena’s brain almost short-circuited. The air between them seemed alive, and Myka’s lips on hers were soft and sure. Her hands were soft where they were touching Helena, and her fingers tickled at the back of Helena’s neck.

 

“How was that?” Myka murmured, moving back slightly, but leaving her hand on the back of Helena’s neck, stroking lightly.

 

“Ah… that was…” Helena was lost for words.

 

“Sounds like it’s not me that needs the practice,” Myka said, over her shoulder, as she sauntered out of the stables and back towards the house. Helena stood there for a long moment, stunned, until an impatient whinny from Moreau got her moving after her wife-to-be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding day arrives…
> 
> I forgot to recommend this earlier - my favourite political fic, ‘complacency in a house of cards’ by @anamatics, which can be found here http://archiveofourown.org/works/1000803/chapters/1981937

* * *

 

The rest of the Sunday passed in a blur. Helena was due to fly to California the following evening to begin her campaign in earnest. That meant getting married and arranging for Myka to move with her within a 24-hour period. And to do whatever Deb Stanley felt was necessary in the meantime to publicise their relationship.

 

After checking several times with Myka that she was sure of her decision, Helena called Deb, who asked her to come to the office first thing the following morning with Myka. She heaved a sigh of relief that they could at least stay the night here and relax before diving in to this… whatever ‘this’ was.

 

They had a pleasant dinner together with Charles, Amanda and Charles Senior before retiring to the library, once again with a large bottle of Scotch. Charles didn’t drink anything as he was driving back to his house that evening. Shortly after they sat down, he gestured to Helena to follow him to the patio, where he smoked a cigar, pausing to enjoy the view of the stars before speaking.

 

“Something has changed with you and Myka, Hels. What is it?”

 

“She’s agreed to marry me,” Helena said simply. She didn’t honestly know how she felt about the situation.

 

“And is that what you want?” Charles asked gently, turning her to look at him.

 

“It is, politically speaking I suppose,” she said, wrapping her arms around her torso, even though it wasn’t at all cold.

 

“And personally speaking?” he enquired, raising an eyebrow.

 

“That’s where this becomes more complicated. I like her, Charlie. A lot more than I intended to. More than anyone I’ve met in years.”

 

“You’re worried that this political marriage might screw up a potential relationship? Or are you worried that you might fall in love with your wife?”

 

“Both. Neither. I don’t know, Charlie. I just… she’s different, you know? Every woman I’ve met in Washington these last four years or so has been vapid or power-hungry or money-grabbing or a mixture of the three. I wasn’t prepared for her at all. She’s genuine and she’s beautiful and she makes me feel things. I don’t want to feel things, Charlie.”

 

He put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close and kissing the top of her head.

 

“I know, Hels. But perhaps it’s time you did. Christina has been gone a long time, and Nate – well, he was never good enough for you, my dear sister. Never.”

 

She sniffled a little into her brother’s shirt.

 

“Thank you, Charlie. You’re a good brother.”

 

He kissed the top of her head again, squeezing her tightly.

 

“I know. I’m the best. But if anyone asks, I hate you and you smell.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“I forgot how juvenile you are,” she said, smiling and wiping her eyes.

 

“Whatever you do, Hels, just try to be happy. You deserve to be happy,” Charles said, giving her another tight squeeze before releasing her.

 

They returned to the library, and Charles and Amanda made their excuses, leaving to make the drive home. Charles Senior was staying, and they spent a convivial evening chatting with him, drinking and playing scrabble, which was a favourite in the Wells household. Myka won, which gained her Charles Senior’s unending respect, as no-one had ever beaten Helena in all the years they had been playing.

 

It was just before midnight when Helena began to wilt, and she caught Myka’s eye, glancing upwards with a quirk of her eyebrow. Myka nodded and they made their excuses, both having sweaty and exuberant kisses bestowed upon their cheeks by Charles Senior. As they came to Myka’s room, she asked if they could talk for a while. Helena nodded, and they went to sit. Myka planted herself solidly on the bed, and Helena took the chair, which was a little uncomfortable. It was the kind of chair that people often placed in guest rooms, for the look of the thing, rather than for comfort, and that usually ended up covered with clothing. She shifted until she managed to get herself in a semi-comfortable position.

 

“So, what did you want to talk about, Myka?” she asked.

 

“Well, we probably have a lot of things to discuss, don’t you think?” Myka said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“We do. A lot of it will be covered by Deb and her team tomorrow, though,” Helena said.

 

“Well, yes, of course. But we have to get ourselves comfortable, and decide how we’re going to play our relationship. We’re going to be under a lot of scrutiny,” Myka said, tilting her head slightly.

 

Helena sighed a little, shifting again in the chair.

 

“Well…” she began, but Myka puffed out a small sigh of irritation before she could continue.

 

“Could you just come and sit on the bed, Helena? That chair is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. I tried to do some reading in it this morning and my ass went to sleep.”

 

Helena looked at her for a long moment.

 

“I didn’t want you to think I was assuming anything…” she said, trailing off.

 

“I’m assuming that we’re going to be married tomorrow and that we’re going to have to be physically comfortable with one another. To sell this, we’re going to have to know how the other likes to be touched, so there are no flinches or jumping at the wrong time. So come sit next to me and let’s talk,” she said, sounding both slightly irritated and fond.

 

Helena went to sit with Myka on the bed, settling herself gingerly on the bedspread after kicking off her boots. She leaned against the headboard and was surprised to find Myka scooting closer, leaning against her. Her arm was warm where it was touching Helena’s. Helena took in a slow, calming breath.

 

“So, what exactly should we discuss?” Helena asked.

 

“Well, firstly, I think you should know that I think I’d really like to go back to work as soon as the campaign is over. Ideally, I’d like to keep my job here because I love the school, but I realise that will be difficult and will probably start rumours of marital problems. So I’m willing to look for something in California.”

 

“That seems reasonable,” Helena said, nodding. “Of course, we need Deb’s input into all of this, because I’m not sure what she has planned.”

 

“Of course,” Myka said, nodding.

 

“And I want you to meet my dad before we go to California.”

 

“Before we go to California?” Helena asked. “Which means, essentially, tomorrow?”

 

Myka nodded.

 

“Whatever else happens, my dad has to believe this is a real marriage, Helena. He won’t let me do this if he knows it’s a political thing – he’ll leak it to the press. So the first person we have to convince that we’re a happily married couple is my dad.”

 

“Okay,” Helena said in a shaky voice. “I suppose we’ll just have to do our best, then.”

 

“Yeah,” Myka said. “So who puts their arm around who?”

 

“What?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“I said, who puts their arm around whose shoulders? When we’re standing together. Or are we more of a holding hands couple?”

 

“I honestly hadn’t given it much thought,” Helena said.

 

“Okay then,” Myka said, jumping off the bed, rounding it and drawing Helena after her briskly to an empty space on the floor.  

 

“I’m taller than you, so maybe I would put my arm around your shoulders? And you could put your arm around my waist?”

 

Helena was a little confused, still, but she followed Myka’s directions. It felt a little awkward, and she said so. Myka let her arm drop to Helena’s waist, and Helena put her hand in Myka’s back pocket, letting her head rest on Myka’s shoulder a little.

 

“That’s better,” Myka said, turning her head to look at Helena.

 

“Yes,” Helena said, a little breathlessly.

 

Myka let go, and then went to stand behind Helena, who tensed slightly.

 

“You see, now this is what you can’t do, Helena. You can’t tense up. I’m not going to hurt you, and you’re supposed to be comfortable with me. So relax.”

 

Helena took a deep breath, loosening her shoulders, and leaned back into Myka’s body slightly. Myka put her arms around Helena, lacing her fingers together against Helena’s abdomen, and Helena reached one hand up casually to hook over Myka’s right arm, letting the other hang comfortably as she leaned back further into Myka, allowing Myka to hold her up.

 

“That’s great,” Myka said. “You seem comfortable, and I think it will look good – relaxed and intimate.”

 

“Yes,” Helena managed, trying to centre herself and ignore the way Myka was making her feel. She almost jumped a foot, however, when Myka pressed a delicate kiss to her neck.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, flushing a deep red. She was the one who made women nervous, who made them jump.

 

“It’s okay, Helena,” Myka said, running her hands up and down Helena’s upper arms briskly as if to warm them. She turned Helena around to face her.

 

“We barely know each other, so this is bound to be a little uncomfortable.”

 

Helena nodded, taking another deep breath. Barely knowing Myka was not the problem, but she wasn’t really interested in sharing the true reasons for her jumpiness with Myka – there was too much at stake for what could be just a crush. And she had no idea how Myka felt or didn’t feel about her.

 

“May I?” Myka asked, this time. Helena nodded, waiting to see what Myka’s next move would be. Myka stepped forward a little and took Helena in her arms. Helena’s arms went up of their own accord, around Myka’s middle. Myka pulled her in close, kissing Helena’s hair.

 

“Just let’s stay close for a minute, try to get more comfortable,” she murmured.

 

Helena nodded, sighing slightly as Myka’s arms tightened around her. She rested her head on Myka’s shoulder, and relaxed as Myka’s hands moved gently across her back, and then one moved up to her neck, fingers rubbing lightly at her nape. Helena kept her body relaxed with an effort, trying hard not to enjoy the contact too much.

 

“You know, for someone so into the idea of a fake marriage, you don’t seem to be doing too well with the actual ‘faking it’ part,” Myka said.

 

“I know. I just – I wasn’t really ready for all this to happen so quickly, I don’t think,” she murmured into Myka’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t bite, Helena,” Myka said, turning her head so that she was breathing into Helena’s hair and against her neck. Helena shivered a little at the sensation. Myka chuckled.

 

“I should point out that I will always shiver if you do that,” Helena said, chuckling a little herself. “My neck is rather ticklish.”

 

“Noted,” Myka said, laughing.

 

Helena tightened her grip on Myka, running her fingertips up along the lean muscle of Myka’s back. She was clearly strong and her body was well-muscled.

 

“You really look after yourself, don’t you?” she said, as Myka breathed softly against her ear.

 

“I try,” Myka said lightly. She seemed to enjoy Helena’s fingers digging into her muscles – she let out a small sigh as Helena moved her fingers in small circles, massaging the muscle gently.

 

“Anything I should know about you?” Helena asked, as she continued to massage the muscles of Myka’s back.

 

“My ass can be ticklish. So if you ever feel the need to grab it, grab it firmly, okay? Otherwise you’ll make me jump.”

 

“Noted,” Helena said with a smirk.

 

“I think you should stay in here tonight,” Myka said, softly.

 

“Ah…really? Do you think that’s necessary?” Helena asked.

 

“Yes, I do. We’re going to have to sleep in the same room when we move in together otherwise it will cause questions. Might as well get comfortable with it now.”

 

It made sense. Helena shrugged slightly, still enjoying the feeling of Myka against her, of Myka’s strong arms around her.

 

“Let me just go to get changed,” Helena said, starting to pull away from Myka’s body.

 

“One minute, Helena. Look, this is a little embarrassing, all of it, I know. But I think we should try kissing, a little bit. Just to get used to each other.”

 

Helena stared at her for a moment.

 

“Are you serious?” she said, realising that Myka’s suggestion was entirely reasonable, in the circumstances. It was just that none of this felt real.

 

“Yes, of course,” Myka said, blinking. Helena took in a deep breath and sighed.

 

“Okay, Myka.”

 

Myka smiled at her wryly.

 

“That much of a pain, is it? Having to make out with me?”

 

Helena put her hand over her mouth, aghast.

 

“I’m so sorry, Myka. I didn’t mean it like that, I just – we’ve only just met, and it’s not like you’re just some conquest in a bar.”

 

For some reason, that made Myka’s smile widen, like she knew a secret that Helena didn’t and it pleased her.

 

“We don’t have to do this now. We can wait for the ceremony tomorrow, if you want.”

 

Helena looked at her uncertainly.

 

“I think perhaps that would be best,” she said, finally.

 

“Sure, honey,” Myka said, and the endearment made Helena blink. Myka Bering was clever and forward thinking, much more so than Helena was – certainly at the moment. She felt dull-witted and as if she were several steps behind Myka.

 

She went to change, choosing soft cotton pyjamas that didn’t show too much flesh. Myka didn’t seem deterred by any of this, but Helena had no intention of sharing a bed with Myka in this particular set of circumstances wearing her usual nightwear – a silk or satin camisole with very brief shorts, or nothing at all.

 

When she returned to Myka’s room, Myka was already in bed, her glasses pushed low on her nose as she read an old book – Dickens, Helena noted, as she got closer.

 

“Hey,” Myka said, smiling. Helena smiled back. She couldn’t understand how she had come to be here. Just a week ago, she had been planning for her campaign, without any of these complications on her mind. Deb Stanley, and now Myka Bering, had thrown her careful planning off course and left her floundering. It did not help that all she wanted to do was climb into that bed and kiss Myka.

 

“You just gonna stand there?” Myka asked, her head tilted and a slight smile on her face.

 

“Ah… no, of course not. I was just wool-gathering, I’m sorry,” Helena said. She moved to the bed and climbed in, carefully leaving a small but significant distance between their bodies. Myka smiled, lifting an eyebrow, but said nothing. She continued to read, and Helena murmured a soft “Goodnight,” before turning over and turning off the lamp on her nightstand. She snuggled in to the soft duvet and let out a sigh as her body relaxed. She was almost asleep when she heard Myka switch off her lamp, and then she felt Myka’s body next to hers, and Myka’s arm around her waist. She relaxed a little more and fell asleep with Myka’s soft breath against her neck.

 

~

 

Helena awoke to the sound of both the alarm clock and the shower. It appeared that as well as being a healthy eater and an incredibly fit individual, Myka was an early riser. Helena was…well, she rose early because she had to, but she most certainly didn’t enjoy doing so. Her best work was done after several cups of strong coffee, a habit she didn’t particularly enjoy, but sometimes tea just didn’t do the trick.

 

The shower switched off, and a few moments later a scantily clad Myka Bering entered the room. She was wrapped in a towel and her hair was wet and her curls tight. She was incredibly beautiful and Helena was momentarily breathless at the sight.

 

“Good morning,” Myka said, smiling as she towel-dried her hair. Helena just stared.

 

“You okay?” Myka asked, tilting her head slightly to dry the ends of her hair.

 

“Of course, yes. A little overtired, perhaps,” Helena said, smiling.

 

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Myka asked.

 

“No, thank you – I should use my own room; all of my clothes are in there.”

 

“Afraid I might see you naked?” Myka said teasingly.

 

“Ah…well…” Helena trailed off, and sat up, running her hands through her hair, trying to regain her wits.

 

“Relax, Helena. I’m just messing with you,” she said, grinning.  “I’ll see you in a bit. Is there anyone I need to ask about breakfast?”

 

“No, they’ll have been listening out. Something will be ready by the time you get downstairs,” Helena said, regaining some of her equilibrium.

 

She went to shower and dress, and by the time she had dried and tamed her hair into its usual glossy waves, Myka had already finished breakfast and was sitting on the patio, talking animatedly with Charles senior as they drank coffee. Helena took a moment to drink in the sight. She couldn’t have hoped for someone like Myka; wouldn’t have even known how to. She was such a wonderful woman and Helena’s family, it appeared, adored her.

 

“Good morning, Hell’s Bells,” her father boomed, jumping up exuberantly to kiss and hug her.

 

“Good morning, Dad,” she said, kissing his cheek fondly.

 

She ate quickly and listened to her father and Myka debating an article from the Financial Pages, the details of which quite escaped Helena. She just watched and enjoyed how they sparred and teased each other. They behaved as if they’d known each other for years, and it was wonderfully sweet.

 

“Righty-ho then,” she said, eventually, when she’d finished her own meal and tea. “Time for us to depart, Myka.”

 

Myka smiled at her.

 

“Sure, honey.”

 

Helena was sure her face was on fire, but she covered it by standing quickly to kiss her father goodbye.

 

“Let me know how it goes, Hels,” he said, hugging her tightly for a moment. “I’d have like to have been there, at the wedding.”

 

“I know, Dad. But we’re meant to have eloped, for the romance. We’ll arrange a party soon. I love you,” she said, drawing back and smiling at him.

 

“I love you too darling,” he said, and then gathered Myka in with his other arm, kissing her soundly on the cheek. “And you, Myka, are very welcome to the family.”

 

“Thank you, Mr Wells,” Myka said, in a small voice.

 

“Charles, please. You’re family now, Myka.”

 

Myka nodded, swallowing hard. It was clear that she was trying not to cry, and to cover, Helena pulled away briskly, telling her father they had to go. They grabbed their bags and took them out to the car where Charles waved them off. The driver, Jeff, saw that Myka was upset and closed the partition window between the front and back seats discreetly.

 

“Are you okay, Myka?” Helena asked.

 

“Yeah, just a little…” Myka trailed off. Helena leaned over to put an arm round her.

 

“It’s been an overwhelming few days, I think. For both of us. If it helps, my father is being entirely genuine. I think he likes you better than he likes me,” she said, chuckling a little.

 

Myka leaned in to her, putting her head on Helena’s shoulder.

 

“I know. He’s so… he’s just such a lovely man, Helena. You’re so lucky to have him as your father,” she choked.

 

“I am, and I know it,” Helena said. “And now he truly considers himself your father in law at the very least. So whatever happens, you always have a home, here.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, sniffling a little. Helena handed her a pack of disposable tissues from her pocket and hugged her a little closer.

 

Myka didn’t extricate herself from Helena’s arms, so they made the journey to the airport that way, and for Helena it was extremely comfortable and peaceful in a way she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. It reminded her of holding Christina in her arms, but not quite. It made something in her still and relax, and she wasn’t sure what. She was quite sure, however, that she wasn’t ready for the changes Myka Bering was about to wreak upon her life.

 

Both Helena and Myka made telephone calls on the flight – Helena to Claudia and Steve, the latter of whom immediately insisted he be present for the wedding. Helena promised to call him as soon as she knew when it would be. Claudia was ecstatic that she was getting married – both for the campaign and for Helena herself.

 

“It’s about time, HG. You need someone to check you when you go all ‘HG’ on my ass.”

 

“Well, I don’t know what that means, actually, but thank you, Claudia. I will see you later today, I suppose.”

 

Myka called her friend, Pete, a Secret Service Agent. He had been Sam’s friend, or so Myka said, and had become her closest friend after Sam’s death. Helena was a bit disconcerted by that information – it seemed like a fairly common thing for men to “move in” when they thought women were vulnerable. Myka saw her expression and laughed.

 

“Pete is like my brother. He’s just so not… well, you’ll see when you meet him. Maybe if I was an apple pie? Or really any kind of breakfast pastry, he’d be more interested. So you’ve got nothing to worry about. Especially since we’re about to get married and agree to fidelity. I mean it when I give my word, Helena, and I think you do too,” she said, starting off with a smile, and then sobering. She meant what she said, clearly.

 

“Of course, Myka. I have no intention of carrying on with my philandering ways. It’s been brought to my attention in more ways than one recently that it’s not good for me.”

 

Myka held her eyes for a long moment and then nodded firmly. They were beginning their descent into Washington, and they made the rest of the flight in silence. A car met them at the small private airfield and drove them directly to Deb’s office.

 

There began a whirlwind of paperwork, hair, makeup and costumes. Deb said she would arrange for Steve and Pete to be there shortly, and that they would find suitable clothing for them both. The wedding date was to be “tweaked” to show that they had, in fact, married over six weeks ago. The date had been carefully chosen with Deb and her team looking at Helena and Myka’s schedules and whereabouts in detail and choosing a date when they could, feasibly, have married in secret.

 

When they had a moment to themselves, Helena took Myka’s hand.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Myka?” she asked anxiously. She was the one who wanted to be President, and why Myka would put up with all of this for someone she barely knew, Helena could not understand.

 

Myka met her gaze squarely. “I told you, Helena. I believe in you. I agreed to this because I wanted to. I need something to believe in – I’ve been drifting around since Sam. I know what I’m doing, Helena. You don’t need to worry.”

 

Helena searched her eyes anxiously. She saw only certainty in Myka’s eyes.

 

“Okay. Thank you, Myka. I… this means a great deal to me.”

 

Myka nodded. “Let’s go get married,” she said firmly.

 

They went to change separately into their dresses and just as Helena had done so Steve arrived.

 

“Helena!” Steve said, taking in her smile and her sleek blue-grey gown, which was, while almost casual, extremely flattering.

 

“Hello, darling,” she said, reaching up to hug him. He was dressed in his usual work attire.

 

“Where is this Deb lady?” he asked, almost anxiously. “She told me to change before I saw you, but I couldn’t resist finding you first.”

 

“She’s in the main conference room,” Helena said, opening the door and directing him to the room at the end of the hall. As she pointed it out, the door opposite opened and a stocky man with dark hair emerged from the room followed by Myka, in a simple olive green dress that stopped just above her knees, and silver ballet pumps. Helena stood still, staring. The dress was simple, yes, but on Myka it was… stunning. There was no other word for it. After a long moment of her staring at Myka, and Myka looking back, apparently transfixed, the other man cleared his throat delicately.

 

“So, you must be Helena,” he said, holding out his hand, which she took automatically. “I’m Pete Lattimer, Myka’s best friend.” His tone held a definite warning, but Helena simply smiled back at him. Myka had made it clear that all of this was her own decision; Helena was taking her at her word. Myka was her own person.

 

“I’m Helena Wells, and this is my closest friend, Steve Jinks,” she said, indicating Steve with a wave of the hand that Pete Lattimer had just released.

 

Steve and Pete shook hands, clearly measuring one another, and as they did, Deb shouted from the Conference room.

 

“Where the hell are my witnesses?! I will skin you all alive if they aren’t in front of me in five seconds!”

 

Steve and Pete shared a look of alarm and took off running to the Conference Room, leaving Helena and Myka chuckling in their wake.

 

“So, you ready for this, Wells?”

 

That returned Helena’s attention to Myka’s dress, which led to her being unable to speak for another long moment.

 

“You look incredibly beautiful, Myka,” she managed, looking positively starry-eyed, she would wager.

 

“Yeah, right,” Myka said, laughing a little nervously. “You look – I don’t even know how to describe how you look, Helena. I mean, I knew you were beautiful, but that dress… your hair, everything. You could be a model. You look like a statue of a Roman goddess or something.”

 

Helena blushed immediately. She had been complimented a lot in her life, both genuinely and otherwise, and for her looks and her intelligence, but no-one had ever looked at her the way Myka had when she said it.

 

“I… thank you, Myka,” she said, eventually. She took an unconscious step towards Myka, and Myka, too, moved closer. They were almost eye to eye, Deb having insisted that Helena wear heels and Myka wear flats to even out their height difference. Helena found that she couldn’t look away from Myka’s eyes and lips, and Myka appeared to be having the same problem. The air was charged and they were moving closer, closer, and Helena could practically taste Myka’s lip gloss, when a shout jarred them out of their reverie.

 

“Wells! Bering! Get in here!”

 

They exchanged a slightly regretful look, and then Myka took Helena’s hand, and they walked down the corridor into the Conference room, which had been transformed into a beautiful wedding chapel for the event. Or at least it resembled a wedding chapel enough to serve as one for the photographs.

 

“Good, you’re here,” Deb snapped. “Now, this is Theodora Stanton. She’s an old family friend and she understands the delicacy of the situation. She’ll be performing the short ceremony. I have the rings, and we’re leaving the vows short and sweet. Are there any questions?”

 

Theodora Stanton was a thin woman with blonde hair that was slightly greying. She looked tired but pleasant, and she shook Helena’s hand and then Myka’s, telling them to call her Ted, before standing back behind Deb.

 

“No questions from me,” Helena said, taking a deep breath. “Myka?”

 

Myka smiled.

 

“No, none from me.”

 

“Okay,” Deb snapped, clapping her hands together loudly. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

As soon as she’d finished speaking, both Steve and Pete arrived, looking dapper in non-identical suits, presumably to underline that this was a last-minute event. Helena shook her head in admiration. Deb Stanley, apparently, thought of everything.

 

After that, the stage was set and Ted pulled them into position near a lectern with their witnesses next to them. She began the short ceremony, which consisted of checking that they were both there of their own free will and that they were who they said they were. She then skipped straight to the vows, which were again short and to the point. They promised to be faithful, to love and cherish one another for as long as they lived. Looking into Myka’s eyes at that moment, Helena could honestly say that she, herself, meant every word, and it seemed as though Myka did too. Deb handed them the rings at the right time, and Myka delicately placed the burnished white gold band on Helena’s ring finger, smiling as she felt Helena’s hand tremble in hers. Then Helena did the same, speaking her vows in a clear voice, and Myka smiled even more brightly.

 

“Congratulations, ladies. You are now married,” Ted Stanton said, delightedly, clapping her hands together as if to say “Abracadabra!” She leaned forward to give them both a quick hug, and said, “You may now kiss!”

 

They looked at each other, Myka with that luminous smile, and Helena with a slightly more tremulous one. Myka quirked an eyebrow and then closed the distance between them, kissing Helena softly, and then a little more firmly. Helena felt Myka’s arms slip around her waist, and she reciprocated by sliding her own arms around Myka’s neck. Myka pulled her closer and their kiss deepened, Myka’s hands moving to Helena’s hips, and Helena’s hand sliding up and into Myka’s hair. Helena’s head was spinning. She had enjoyed, in her time, more than a few first kisses. But this one – it was like she had been dying of thirst, and she hadn’t even known it, and Myka had given her the first drink of water she’d had in days. The thought intruded as Myka moaned quietly into her mouth that they were perhaps getting a little carried away, but as Helena distantly took in the flash of several cameras in the background, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

 

They broke apart after another long moment, interrupted by loud cheering and wolf-whistling from Pete Lattimer. Myka whispered in Helena’s ear as they moved apart, “Congratulations, Mrs Bering-Wells.” That was the name they had agreed on earlier with Deb, although Helena would continue to use the Wells name professionally.

 

“Congratulations,” she murmured in reply, smiling softly at Myka. They turned to face their friends, and after a moment, parted to speak to the others in the room. Steve drew Helena into a tight hug immediately.

 

“Congratulations, Helena,” he whispered, squeezing her tightly. “If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that was a genuine kiss between you two,” he said, almost whispering, before pulling back, looking down at her questioningly.

 

“It’s a little complicated,” Helena allowed, in a low voice, and he drew her back to him again, kissing the top of her head.

 

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” he said, and she squeezed him tightly in return.

 

As Steve released her, Deb was there, throwing her arms around Helena.

 

“I think she’s going to be really good for you, Helena Wells,” she murmured. As Helena simply quirked an eyebrow in response, she smiled knowingly.

 

“We’ll see, Wells,” she said, and sashayed off to congratulate Myka.

 

Pete Lattimer came over and hugged Helena awkwardly, before muttering something about “them never finding the body” if Helena ever hurt Myka. She simply nodded, and Myka caught her eye at that precise moment, rolling her eyes at Pete’s overprotectiveness.

 

They were then asked to pose for photographs, at which point Myka’s ‘training’ of the night before came in handy. They posed in an embrace, gazing into one another’s eyes, and then again with Myka behind Helena, her arms around Helena’s waist, as they had done the night before. At Deb’s urging, they took photographs from several angles as they kissed one another softly, each time making Helena’s heart race. They finally took several pictures in informal poses with Pete and Steve. By the end of the impromptu photo shoot Helena was exhausted and her heart was pounding.

 

“You guys look amazing,” Deb said, smiling genuinely at them.

 

“They do, don’t they?” Pete said, and Deb smiled over at him, quickly giving him a speculative once over that he didn’t notice, but Helena did.

 

Myka looked at Helena in concern.

 

“Hey, you okay over there?” she asked.

 

“I’m a little tired, I think,” Helena said.

 

“Let’s go get something to eat. We haven’t eaten anything in about six hours,” Myka said, putting her arm around Helena’s waist to support her. Helena nodded at her, and Steve came to her other side, offering his arm.

 

They took their leave of Deb and her team, Deb promising to send them the pictures and the documents within a few hours. She also said she would be in touch as to how they should proceed with their relationship. For now, anyone who knew the couple was to behave as if they knew about their relationship. In the case of Myka’s father, Myka was to tell him that they had eloped and that she was telling him now because they were moving to California.  

 

They had lunch with Pete and Steve at the same bistro at which they’d eaten on the day they met – only 3 days ago, Helena reminded herself. It felt like she’d known Myka for years. Every time Myka’s eyes met hers, she got that same feeling – that they’d known one another for years.

 

They had a pleasant, if at times slightly uncomfortable lunch with Steve and Pete Lattimer. Pete was clearly not a fan of this arrangement, and kept throwing black looks in Helena’s direction. Steve, however, was clearly quite taken with Myka, and said so to Helena when Myka went to the bathroom.

 

“She’s lovely, Helena. Such a genuine person. I didn’t expect someone like her when you told me about all of this,” he said, smiling.

 

Pete scowled, but Helena just smiled.

 

“She is incredibly genuine. I never thought to find anyone like her either,” she said, and at that, Pete actually smiled.

 

“She’s amazing,” he said. “You couldn’t ask for a better person.”

 

“I know, Mr Lattimer,” Helena said, meeting his gaze seriously. He nodded.

 

Myka returned and the atmosphere lightened a little now that Pete was scowling less. They had to go, however, to meet Myka’s father and break the news. They said goodbye to Pete and decided to go to Helena’s office first, where their baggage had been sent, so Steve came along with them and left them when they reached his office. When they reached Helena’s office, they changed into slightly more informal clothing. As promised, the documents professing them to have been married approximately 6 weeks ago and their wedding photographs had been delivered to Helena’s assistant. There were high quality prints in a lovely wedding album and a USB stick, presumably containing all of the pictures.

 

“Well, are you ready to face your father?” Helena asked, as Myka leafed through the pictures.

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, doubtfully.

 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Helena said, as she looked at the picture Myka was peering at. The one Myka was looking at had captured them while they were in one another’s arms, staring at each other, and if Helena hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that they were each in love with the other.

 

“Yeah, they really are,” Myka said, thoughtfully.

 

“Shall we, then?” Helena asked, offering her arm to Myka, who took it and tucked the album under her other arm.

 

“I’m just warning you, Helena. He’s not going to be pleasant about this,” Myka said, her jaw beginning to clench.

 

“I’m sorry, Myka. You know, if this was going to be a problem for your family, we should really have talked about it before now,” Helena said, turning Myka to meet her eyes. “The very last thing I want to do is make your life more difficult.”

 

“I make my own decisions, Helena,” Myka said, her chin coming up. “My father might think he can decide for me, but I’m a big girl. I decided to do this, and if my father has a problem with it, then it’s his problem, not mine. I just wanted to warn you. I don’t think he’ll be rude, or at least not explicitly rude, but he won’t be nice either. So just be prepared, okay?”

 

Helena nodded. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dealt with unpleasant people during her time as an attorney in LA or here in Washington. She took a deep breath, and they walked out arm in arm to face the wrath of Warren Bering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newlyweds meet with Warren Bering, and they make the move across the country

* * *

 

Warren Bering was exactly as Helena remembered him from their meetings at the White House.  Friendly, pleasant, and convivial. Without Myka’s warnings, Helena might not have even read the situation for what it was. The man was seething underneath, furious that his daughter had done such a thing. That she had _dared_ to do a thing like this without telling him. All of this was said with not-entirely genuine smiles, toasts to ‘the happy couple’ and the buying of the restaurant’s most expensive champagne.

 

Warren spoke very little to Myka, directing most of his conversation to Helena, enquiring about her company and her father, and how Charles was faring in New Hampshire. Helena responded politely in between sips of the champagne and bites of caviar that Warren insisted on ordering, even over Myka’s protests that they’d just eaten lunch.

 

“Nonsense, Ophelia,” he said, dismissing her protests entirely. “You could do with putting on a few pounds. The girl never eats enough, Helena!” he pronounced.

 

Myka’s grip on Helena’s hand grew a little tighter. She had not let go since they’d arrived at the restaurant.

 

Shortly after the arrival of the caviar and blinis, Helena had to excuse herself to use the bathroom. As she returned to the table afterwards, however, she heard Myka’s voice, strained and slightly raised, warring with Warren’s stronger but more strident tones. Helena was out of sight, round the corner from the booth they were sitting in, so she decided to listen for a moment to see what Mr Bering really thought.

 

“You should have known better than to do this, Ophelia,” he said, over her attempt to say, quite evenly, that her choices were her own. “That woman has spread her legs for every woman – and half the men, if the stories are to be believed - in DC. There is no way she’ll get anywhere, not in this party. I thought you would have chosen better, after Sam.”

 

Helena took in a sharp breath at that.

 

“Dad, how can you even… whatever else you might have thought of him, he saved your life. You can’t honestly…”

 

“Enough of this nonsense already. We’ll get this marriage” – the word was imbued with intense scorn – “annulled and you can go back to Colorado Springs and stay with your mother. God knows she complains to me enough that she never gets to see me, maybe she’ll shut up for a while if I send you there.” The tone of his voice said that the matter was settled, and when Myka did not speak to defend herself, Helena rounded the edge of the booth and sat next to her, taking her hand once again. Myka’s eyes were downcast, her jaw tight, and she was trembling.

 

“Are you okay, Myka?” Helena asked softly. Myka nodded, without looking up.

 

“Mr Speaker,” Helena said, suddenly, loud enough to be heard at the next table. “I’m sure I can’t have heard you correctly just then.”

 

“What do you mean, Miss Wells?” he asked, playing the innocent while looking round him to see if anyone was watching. Plenty of people were, Helena noted with some satisfaction.

 

“It is my understanding, Mr Bering, that your daughter is an adult, more than capable of making her own decisions. It is also my understanding that her husband died in the line of duty protecting his charge; that is, you. So what I thought I heard – well, I suppose it must have been the champagne going to my head. I so rarely drink during the day,” she said, smiling dangerously.

 

Warren looked at her carefully before nodding. He had clearly misjudged her; and his narrowed eyes said he would not do so again.

 

“What you heard was an old man telling his wonderful daughter how much he’s going to miss her,” he said. “My Myka is my pride and joy and I couldn’t be happier to see her with a woman like you.”

 

How he managed to pack that last sentence with so much venom, Helena couldn’t honestly have said. But she smiled again, tugging slightly on Myka’s hand before standing up, slowly enough that it didn’t appear that she was making a scene.

 

“Well, it has been a pleasure, Mr Bering,” Helena said, through slightly gritted teeth. “I’m so glad I got to meet my new father-in-law before we leave for California.”

 

Warren Bering smiled back, just as falsely, and embraced Helena heartily, saying, “Welcome to the family,” loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen of the restaurant, several floors up. He gave Myka a quick hug, and she smiled wanly before turning away. Helena smiled beatifically as they walked away, just pleased to be out of Warren Bering’s toxic presence. As they left the restaurant and entered their car, Helena murmured, “Well, you did warn me,” in a light tone.

 

Myka began to cry. Helena didn’t know what to do, how to help, now that she was aware of how foul Warren Bering really was, so she simply pulled Myka to her and wrapped her arms around Myka, holding on tightly. She had read somewhere that even pressure from all sides was useful in calming people. She believed that the study had been on autistic people, but reasoned that the principle was probably the same in neurotypical people. She held Myka until they arrived back at her offices, and for some time after. The driver had closed the privacy glass straight away when Myka began crying and it was still closed, so they were afforded a modicum of privacy for this difficult moment. It took a while, but Myka cried herself out and eventually straightened, moving away from Helena slightly.

 

“Thank you,” she said, eventually, wiping her eyes with another tissue provided by Helena.

 

“Whatever for?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“You stood up for me against my dad. No-one has ever done that,” she said, and her eyes were serious as they met Helena’s. Serious, and full of something… something that Helena couldn’t quite name.

 

“In that case, you are most welcome. I heard only some of what he said, Myka, but you mustn’t think that anything he said is true. Apart from the bit about me – I have slept with an awful lot of women. Not men though, not since my ex-husband,” she said, frowning. “In any case, you are strong and wonderful, Myka, and he absolutely does not deserve to have you as a daughter.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, wiping her eyes again. She checked her face in one of the car’s fold down mirrors, and grimaced slightly before shrugging. “I guess I can’t hide that I’ve been crying,” she said, unhappily.

 

“Don’t worry, Myka. No-one will say a thing, I assure you. And there is plenty of makeup and the like in my private bathroom.”

 

They walked through the corridors to Helena’s office and Myka went off to make herself look a little more presentable. As she waited for Myka to return, Helena went through her mental checklist of things she had to sort out before she left this office for good, and wondered what Myka might need to do in the meantime. When Myka returned from the bathroom she said that she needed to go and pack up some of her belongings, and leave instructions for the rest so that her books and other belongings could be sent along after them. Helena called a car to send Myka on her way, and she managed to finish tying up her loose ends within a couple of hours, after which she called Steve, to officially hand over to him.

 

“I’m going to miss you so much, HG,” Steve said, squeezing her tightly.

 

“And I’m going to miss you, love,” she said, softly. “But we’ll talk all the time, and we’ll be back and forth to Washington often enough, I would expect.”

 

“So it’s ‘we’ now, is it?” he teased, smirking at her.

 

“Well, she is officially my wife,” she said, brandishing the wedding band at him. “So it would appear so!”

 

“You seem different, Helena,” he said, looking at her carefully. “I think Myka Bering agrees with you.”

 

“That’s Myka Bering-Wells to you, young man,” she said haughtily, before her expression crumbled into what she suspected was a rather dreamy smile. “She is rather wonderful, isn’t she?”

 

“Well, she’s not really my type,” he said with a laugh, “but she certainly has my vote. I’ve never seen you look like this. Like some sort of light in you just switched on when you met her.”

 

It sounded hopelessly romantic, but Helena felt very much like a light had been switched on since Myka first tilted her head at Helena and challenged her to convince Myka of her plan. She had never been so intrigued so quickly by anyone.

 

“Well, who knows what might happen,” she said lightly. “After all, we are married now. And we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

 

“Yeah. I hope it all works out for you, babe,” he said, before hugging her for an absolute age.

 

As he let go, she noticed tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

 

“This is not goodbye, Steve,” she assured him, before handing him the documents transferring her leadership of the firm over to him. It had been difficult to arrange, with some of the board opposing the move, but she had managed to talk them round with promises of large bonuses and the like. She was still the majority shareholder by a large margin, and her father was the second largest. She’d only let him buy shares once the firm was standing on its own two feet and it had become a legitimate concern in its own right, but now between them they had the deciding vote on most matters.

 

She walked out of her office for what could very well be the last time, giving the sofa a rueful look before making her way to the waiting car with her luggage. She directed the driver to her apartment, and finished packing up the last items she absolutely had to bring with her before sitting with a cup of tea. Their flight was in three hours so she decided to call Myka to see how she was doing.

 

“Hi, Helena,” Myka said, sounding distracted. Helena could hear Pete’s voice in the background.

 

“Hi, darling. I was just checking everything’s okay there. I wanted to check what time I should pick you up.”

 

“I’m nearly done packing despite Pete’s assistance,” Myka said ruefully, “so I’d say, give me an hour?”

 

Helena stood at the window of her apartment, the place where she had spent a significant amount of her time over the last four years, and sighed. It had never felt like home, this immaculate apartment with its shiny appliances and stylish décor, but it had a wonderful view of the city. She spent her last half hour taking it in before calling the driver up to collect her luggage. They picked Myka up promptly, and the flight was mercifully on time and not too full. They were seated in first class but Helena would still have preferred to use her father’s jet, which had turned out to be unavailable. She always felt vulnerable travelling and it was worse, somehow, with others. Having the privacy of her father’s jet made the whole thing much easier to handle. They made it to the West coast in good time, although Helena could not have said afterwards how long the flight was, because she snored the whole way through it and awoke to a very amused Myka Bering watching her.

 

“You know, I take back what I said about you looking like a Roman goddess,” she said thoughtfully, and teasingly. “There was definitely no goddess involved in that drooling spectacle I just witnessed.”

 

Helena pulled herself together enough to glare (after surreptitiously checking for drool, of course) and to say, lightly, “Well, it’s too late now, Mrs Bering-Wells. You’ve married me now and you can’t back out.”

 

Myka smiled. “You make a very good point, Mrs Bering-Wells.” And she smiled fondly at Helena all the way to the car that met them at LAX.

 

Helena’s home was in Coldwater Canyon, a far cry from her first apartment over her first legal practice in downtown LA. The house was a beautiful flat-roofed building with a private pool and stunning views. Coldwater Canyon Park was not even a stone’s throw away and would be perfect for Myka’s running routine.

 

When they reached the house, the driver brought in their bags and Helena tipped him. Myka looked around her in awe.

 

“This place is amazing, Helena,” she said, eyes wide.

 

“It is one of my favourite places, I must admit,” Helena said. “I haven’t lived in too many places in the US, but this feels almost as much of a home as my father’s house does.”

 

“How long have you lived here?” Myka asked, wandering around and looking at the art on the walls, all of which was expensive but small and somehow personal.

 

“About 5 years, all in all,” Helena said. “I lived in LA before that, of course, but I started out in a studio apartment above my practice, and moved a few times. I lived on the other side of town when I was married. My father would have bought this place for me, of course, or something like it, but I waited until I could afford it myself. I wanted to earn it, you know?”

 

Myka smiled blindingly at her.

 

“You still surprise me, Helena Wells,” she said.

 

“Bering-Wells, thank you darling,” Helena said with a smirk.

 

Helena grabbed Myka’s bags and took them down the corridor to the bedrooms.

 

“You can sleep wherever you want, of course, darling, but I would suggest this room since it has its own bathroom,” Helena said with a nervous smile.

 

“I told you, Helena,” Myka said with a raised eyebrow, “we should get used to sleeping in the same room. That’s what Deb told me. We need to make sure there’s no reason for anyone to question the legitimacy of this marriage.”

 

“Are you sure, Myka?” Helena asked, leaning against the doorjamb of the guest room. “It seems like a real imposition on you. Not only do you have to move across the country where you know absolutely no-one, you give up your job and now you even have to give up your privacy? It doesn’t entirely seem fair!”

 

“Helena, I signed up for this. We’re supposed to be in this together. I don’t see sharing a room with you as an imposition at all. I’m… I’m already very comfortable with you. If you want, I’ll take over one of the other rooms as a study, so I can have my own space when I need it. Is that okay with you?”

 

Helena nodded, feeling very guilty that Myka didn’t even get to have her own space in this new life she’d chosen.

 

“Come on. I hope you’ve got some closet space, because I do have quite a lot of clothes.”

 

Helena did, as it happened, have a large amount of closet space. The master bedroom had a huge walk-in closet that wasn’t even half full. She left Myka unpacking her clothes and went to call Claudia, who had insisted on being told the moment she and Myka arrived home. Claudia said she’d be there in 20 minutes; Helena told her to bring some milk for tea and coffee.

 

“Ah, duh, Helena. This isn’t my first rodeo. I had groceries delivered yesterday.”

 

Helena smiled and went to put the kettle and coffee machine on. She walked through to the bedroom to tell Myka that Claudia was coming, and to warn her about the young woman’s exuberant and blunt nature.

 

“How does she feel about this…us?” Myka asked, looking anxious.

 

“She’s my campaign manager, Myka. She’s in favour of anything that will help my chances, and she thinks, from what Steve’s told her, that you and I are a good match.”

 

“Hmm, a good match, huh?” Myka said, smiling that lopsided smile that Helena was coming to like so very much.

 

“He’s not the only one to have said so,” Helena confessed, with a shy smile, which Myka returned.

 

“Your dad said he thought we made sense,” Myka said, smiling, “and Charles didn’t say anything, but he seemed to like me.”

 

“They all did,” Helena said, smiling widely now in response to Myka’s open expression.

 

There was a knock at the door and Helena went to answer it, being almost bowled over by an exuberant Claudia Donovan. The short redhead had been Helena’s head of IT, after working her way up through the ranks from the mailroom. She was in the foster system and, after a chance meeting, was able to emancipate herself at the age of 16 with Helena’s help. She’d been working for Helena in one capacity or another ever since, and was more than qualified to run a campaign of this magnitude. Her intellect was incredible, and her technical prowess was wonderful to watch. She had been in LA for a couple of months getting things set up, and while they had skyped and chatted, it wasn’t the same.

 

“I’ve really missed you, HG,” Claudia said, giving her a crushing hug, and then turning to Myka.

 

“Hi, I’m Claudia Donovan, and you must be the wife!” she said, throwing herself at a very perplexed Myka and giving her the same sort of bone-crushing embrace she’d just bestowed upon Helena.

 

“Hi, Claudia,” Myka said, squeezing back a little awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Claudia let her go and then took her hand to shake it.

 

“Thank you for taking this one on,” she said in a derogatory tone, rolling her eyes at Helena.

 

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Myka said dryly. It was exactly the right tone to strike with Claudia; she liked Myka already, Helena could tell.

 

“Shall we have some tea?” Helena asked, and they moved to the living area, where Helena served up tea for herself and coffee for the Americans.

 

“So what convinced you to do this?” Claudia asked bluntly, after draining half her cup in one draught.

 

“Honestly? Helena. And her family. I realised how genuine they are, and how much Helena actually means what she says. At first I thought she was just…” Myka trailed off.

 

“A trollop? A dirty slapper?” Helena supplied helpfully.

 

“Ah…yes. But it didn’t take long for me to realise that, while she has been a terrible trollop,” Myka said, smiling at the incredible Britishness of Helena’s description, “she really does want to make a difference, and that she wasn’t looking for arm candy, she was looking for a real partner. And then I met her dad, and he’s – well, not what I expected, to say the least.”

 

“Senior is amazing,” Claudia said, nodding her head enthusiastically. “I would walk on broken glass for that man. He’s fantastic. Best old guy ever.”

 

“So, that’s what convinced me. Well, all that and the horses.”

 

“She does love her horses,” Claudia agreed. She drained the rest of her cup in another huge swallow that made Helena wince; surely that had to hurt?

 

“So, I’m gonna let you guys get some sleep, because you’ve been awake now for like a million hours, and it’s gonna take a while for you to get used to West Coast time. I’ll see you both in the morning?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. They both nodded, and Claudia bounded out to her car, a red Prius, apparently taking all the energy in the room with her.

 

“Wow,” Myka said, “I’m so tired, all of a sudden. I hadn’t even realised how long we’d been up.”

 

“It has been a long day,” Helena agreed. “Shall we, then?” she said, standing and taking the remainder of her tea with her. She had made her tea and Myka’s coffee decaf for this very reason; she suspected the events of the day and all of the travelling were going to catch up with them.

 

They made their way wearily to Helena’s room – no, to _their_ room – and Helena, without thinking, began to strip, throwing her clothes into the correct laundry baskets. After a moment she realised that she was already down to her underwear and that she wasn’t alone.

 

“I’m so sorry, Myka,” she began, turning, only to find that Myka was standing there, enjoying the view with a slight smirk.

 

“What for?” Myka asked, eyes twinkling.

 

“Nothing, apparently,” Helena muttered. It appeared that Myka was much less worried about the physical side of this relationship, about boundaries, than Helena was. Helena therefore decided to grab her usual nightwear and slipped into the bathroom to use the loo and brush her teeth, getting changed into a comfortable camisole and soft silky shorts. She had the satisfaction of seeing Myka’s eyes widen as she took in Helena’s nightwear before she went into the bathroom to change. However, when Myka came out of the bathroom, she was wearing a cotton tank top and shorts.  Her legs went on for ever, and Helena had to stop herself from gasping at the sight. Instead, she closed her eyes and settled herself under the covers. Myka climbed in next to her, to what appeared to be ‘her’ side of the bed, and reached over to kiss Helena gently on the lips.

 

“What was that for?” Helena asked with a smile.

 

“For today. For standing up to my dad. For being the person I hoped you would be,” Myka said, stunning Helena somewhat. She pulled Helena to her, pulling Helena’s arm across her abdomen. Helena settled her face into the crook of Myka’s neck and breathed in the scent of her skin.

 

“Goodnight, Helena,” Myka said, kissing the top of Helena’s head and keeping her lips there, pressed to Helena’s hair.

 

“Goodnight, Myka,” Helena said, relaxing in her new wife’s arms and drifting off to sleep quickly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longer update. Helena meets her staff and makes a speech, she and Myka fool around a little, and they have their first misunderstanding.

* * *

 

When Helena woke the following morning, Myka was still wrapped around her, her limbs heavy with sleep. The previous day had been long and filled with emotion, not to mention several plane journeys. It was a novel experience for Helena, to wake up with someone. The last time she’d done that was with Nate. Normally when she met someone, she slipped out after sex and never saw them again. With Myka, things were the opposite – no sex, but a lot of intimacy that Helena wasn’t sure she was ready for. And yet, there was something about Myka. Their kiss yesterday at the wedding – it had been uninhibited, beautiful, sexy. Helena had been transported, and if they hadn’t been where they were, with all of those people looking on, she thought that things might have gone a lot further. Which made her think – what was Myka’s intention, in marrying her? She was clearly comfortable with the physical aspect of this “relationship” and had discussed it with Deb Stanley. Was she expecting their relationship to become sexual? Not that Helena would normally mind such a development, but there was something about Myka, something… more. She didn’t want to screw things up with Myka for the sake of a shag.

 

Myka stirred next to her, pulling Helena a little closer, somehow, and pressing her lips to Helena’s neck.

 

“Good morning,” she murmured.

 

“Good morning, yourself,” Helena said. “How are you feeling this morning?”

 

“Ah… better, thanks.” Myka said, opening her eyes and smiling a half-smile. Helena was struck again by her beauty, and her comfort with their physical proximity, with sharing a bed with someone she’d only just met. But then they were married, so what was a little cuddling next to that?

 

“You really… what you said to my dad, yesterday. It really meant a lot,” Myka said.

 

“It was nothing, Myka. The man is an idiot. He should be proud to have a daughter like you. You’re amazing. You’ve come through the loss of your husband and come out the other side, strong and beautiful and you want to make a difference. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Helena said, her voice rising as she became more passionate. Myka stared at her for a moment.

 

“Thank you, Helena,” she said in a whisper, leaning forward to kiss Helena’s eyebrow. Helena smiled at her, lost, once more, in Myka’s gaze. It felt like time had stopped, suspended between them, and she wanted so much to lean forward and just kiss Myka and never stop. Myka broke her indecision by leaning in to kiss Helena softly. Helena returned the kiss but after a moment stopped, hesitant.

 

“What?” Myka asked, clearly puzzled.

 

“You don’t have to do that, you know. When we’re alone, I mean. There’s no obligation on you to do anything, to…”

 

Myka put her finger on Helena’s lips.

 

“Shut up, Helena. Remember when I told you yesterday that I make my own decisions?” Helena nodded, Myka’s finger still against her lips. “Well, that includes any sort of physical intimacy between us. But if anything I ever do makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?”

 

Helena nodded again, her eyes on Myka’s. Myka leaned forward a little and kissed Helena again, and after a second Helena began to respond. It was very much like their kiss at the wedding, only there was no-one here to interrupt. Their kiss grew hungry, and Helena pulled Myka’s body closer, moaning slightly into Myka’s mouth. She felt Myka smile into their kiss, and that, for some reason, gave Helena some of the confidence she had been lacking thus far in their relationship, whatever it was. Her tongue flickered against Myka’s lips and Myka opened her mouth, tasting Helena’s tongue with hers. It was Myka’s turn to moan, then, and she slid one hand up under Helena’s camisole, her fingertips digging into Helena’s warm skin slightly. She pulled back for a moment, smiling at Helena.

 

“What?” Helena asked, confused as to why Myka had stopped kissing her, and why she was smiling.

 

“This is fun,” Myka said. “You’re a great kisser. I like kissing you.”

 

“I like kissing you too,” Helena said, and Myka smiled again before leaning in for another kiss.

 

Myka pulled at Helena’s hips, tugging Helena almost on top of her. Helena wrapped one leg around Myka and Myka’s arms tightened around her while her tongue began an unmistakeable action against Helena’s.

 

“My God, you are beautiful,” Helena gasped as she pulled her head back for a second. Her head was swimming and while she didn’t know what she wanted with Myka, she knew that she wanted this, and that she wanted it now. Her body wanted Myka’s, and Myka clearly wanted her. And they were married. There was no reason to stop, so Helena decided not to. She slid her hand up under Myka’s pyjama top, exploring the soft, warm skin feverishly as they kissed, and Myka grasped at Helena’s skin, moving one hand down to cup Helena’s buttock. It made Helena gasp and writhe a little, and that writhing made them both gasp.

 

“Myka,” she managed, in between kisses, “are you sure about this?”

 

“Shut up, Helena,” Myka growled, biting Helena’s lip and sliding her other hand down to grasp Helena’s other buttock and grind their bodies together, hard.

 

Helena shut up. She slid herself across a little so that she was straddling Myka completely, kissing her, open-mouthed, hot and insistent.  She began to inch up Myka’s pyjama top when the doorbell rang. They broke apart, sharing a look of irritation. Helena did take a moment to notice how incredibly sexy Myka was when she was as plainly aroused as she was right then; it made Helena’s stomach drop and for a second she seriously considered ignoring the door. And everything in the world that might happen from that moment on.

 

“For the love of God!” Helena muttered, running her fingers through her hair, an action which she noticed Myka’s eyes following avidly. She gave Myka an apologetic smile, getting up and pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt over her night things.

 

She opened the door to an overexcited Claudia Donovan, who was carrying a number of hot drinks and a large box of pastries. She swept past Helena and went to sit on the sofa in the living room, starting to take the drinks out of the cup holder and set them on the table, and then opening the box of pastries.

 

“Which one do you want, HG?” she asked over her shoulder, only then noticing that Helena had not followed her to the coffee table.

 

“What?” she asked, finally noticing the thunderous expression on Helena’s face.

 

“Have you ever heard of calling before you turn up at someone’s house first thing in the morning, Claudia Donovan? Especially when that person happens to be your boss?” Helena asked sharply.

 

Claudia winced.

 

“Well, sorry, HG, but I thought we were ready for business now that you got this whole marriage thing done and everything. It is 8am – I thought you would have been up before now, since it’s like…11am in Washington, right? Claudia said, looking apologetic but also puzzled.

 

“We had a long day yesterday, Claudia. And I had planned to come to the campaign office for 10 am. I thought that would be reasonable enough for the first day, especially since I would like to ease Myka into this whole thing!”

 

“Oh, shit!” Claudia said, with a hand to her mouth and her eyes wide. “Were you two, like… doing it? Is that why you’re so pissed?”

 

“That’s none of your business, Claudia,” Helena said huffily, but her cheeks were beginning to flush and she knew that of all people, Claudia wouldn’t miss the tell-tale signs of embarrassment on her face.

 

“Oh my God!” Claudia whisper – shouted. “You totally were doing it! You’re screwing your fake wife already!”

 

“Oh for God’s sake, Claudia. Must you be so vulgar?” Helena hissed. “And Myka is not a fake anything. She has agreed to be my partner in this, to help me to become Governor, to make a difference. All those things you and I have been talking about over these last few years. She has very little to gain from this arrangement apart from hassle and people prying into her private life, and she still decided to do it. So no more vulgar comments, and no more calling her my ‘fake’ anything, okay?”

 

She stood glaring at Claudia with her hands on her hips and her nostrils flared. Claudia held her hands up in defeat.

 

“Hey, HG, I’m sorry. I just… I was just messing with you. I didn’t realise…” she said, trailing off. And then she smiled brightly and said, “Hi Myka, it’s nice to see you again!”

 

Helena turned to see that Myka had entered the room, now dressed in yoga pants and a soft t-shirt. With her hair still unbound, she looked casual and relaxed and incredibly beautiful.

 

“Hi,” Helena said, breathlessly.

 

“Hey,” Myka said, smiling back. After a moment of staring, she seemed to remember that Claudia was there, and said, “You brought food? Wow! You’re officially my new favourite person.”

 

“How quickly their loyalty dies,” Helena said, mournfully. Myka chuckled, and Claudia joined in, her laugh slightly high and false.

 

They ate breakfast together, Claudia talking them through the planned events for the weeks to come. Helena lost concentration after a while, losing herself in watching Myka concentrate, her eyes slightly narrowed and her hand playing with her hair absently.

 

“So, you guys happy with that?” Claudia asked.

 

Helena realised that she hadn’t been listening, so to cover, she raised an eyebrow at Myka.

 

“Is that all right with you, Myka?” she asked.

 

Myka smirked.

 

“Yes, I think so. We might need to tweak a few things, but I think you and I could probably talk about that later.”

 

“Okay, then, let’s do that,” Helena said, relieved.

 

Claudia left them, then, saying that she expected them at the campaign offices as soon as possible. There was a lot to do, and Helena quite honestly wasn’t sure what half of it was. But she knew that she had to get her head in the game, now, if she wanted to win this election.

 

“Well,” Myka said, standing up. Helena turned to face her.

 

“Yes?” she asked, smiling.

 

“How much of what Claudia said did you actually listen to? Because it looked like you drifted off entirely there about halfway through,” she said, with a slight smile.

 

“I may have ever so slightly drifted…that’s true. I don’t suppose you caught what she was talking about?” Helena said, her expression rueful.

 

“I did, actually. And I have a very good memory,” Myka said, smirking this time. “So whatever were you thinking of, Helena Wells, that distracted you that much?”

 

“Honestly?” Helena asked. “I was thinking about you. Wondering what makes you tick.”

 

“I see,” Myka said, smiling. “Well, for now that will have to remain a mystery. We have a job to do, future Governor Wells. And we don’t have much time, so let’s go get ready,” Myka said.

 

Myka was all business once they were dressed, even adjusting Helena’s clothes to ensure that she looked her best to meet her staff. Helena would have rather liked to revisit their moment from earlier but it appeared that Myka was focused. Helena had a car but still preferred to use a car service instead of driving in the city, so they sat together in the back of a sleek black town car on the way to the campaign offices. Helena began to get nervous on the way as she thought about meeting these people, most of whom were giving up their free time for her, interning for free to gain experience and because they believed in her, in her proposed (and currently very vague) reforms. Myka seemed to sense this, and took Helena’s hand.

 

“Relax, Helena. If you can convince me in the space of 2 days to uproot my whole life to marry you, I think you can convince these guys that you’re the real deal. I knew that as soon as you opened your mouth to explain why you were doing this.”

 

Helena looked at her, open-mouthed.

 

“But you said… that I’d never – they’d never elect a lesbian president, you said.”

 

“I did, but I believed in you as soon as I asked you why and you told me. There’s something about you, Helena, that inspires people. You’re smart, you believe in what you’re saying. And somehow, regardless of all the things in your way – in our way – I believe that you’re going to get there, to the White House. I believe that you will do it all, and that you’ll change the US, you’ll change the world, and for the better. So go in there and give them hell, honey.”

 

They were outside the campaign offices by that stage, and Helena stared for a moment, completely taken aback by Myka’s passionate speech.

 

“Thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly, leaning close to kiss Myka, an action that was becoming oddly familiar. “You are… I don’t know how I got lucky enough to find you, Myka Bering, but I’m so incredibly glad I did.”

 

They walked in to the campaign office hand in hand, and were surprised when they opened the door to a roomful of energetic, busy young people shouting into phones and walking around frowning at tablets and the odd piece of paper. Even campaigning had reached the digital age, it appeared. They stood still for a moment until Claudia emerged from the throng and caught sight of them. She clapped her hands together loudly for silence, and then shouted into the silence.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the reason we are all here. Helena Wells, the future Governor of California, and her wife, Myka Bering-Wells!”

 

There was a thunderous round of applause, all of these eager young people clapping and cheering for this person they didn’t even know. Myka tried to step away, to leave Helena in the limelight, but Helena grabbed her hand again and pulled her back to her side with a grin, sliding her hand around Myka’s waist.

 

“Thank you, everyone, for coming here, for giving up your time and sharing your talent with me, in order to get me elected to the highest office in this State that has been my home for many years. Those of you who know me will know that I have strong feelings about politics, about politicians and what their job is. So make no mistake; I am here to work. I am here to effect change. I am here because I want to serve the people of this State, to keep them safe, to keep them in jobs, to give them equal rights. I want California to be a shining beacon of what these United States are about, and I want each and every one of you to be by my side when I do.

 

As you might know, I have had quite the reputation, at times, for being what would be called a ladies’ man, were I a man.” There was some laughter, and then quiet as the captivated crowd waited for her to continue. “Equality being what it is, however, I am instead known as a slut or a whore or a trollop. Luckily, I have been rescued from my wicked ways by this incredible woman beside me, Myka Bering-Wells, my wife. She is everything we could wish for in this modern world – smart, talented, independent, beautiful. She, like me, has had every advantage in this world.” She looked at Myka with a smile that turned serious. “What I want, for each and every person in the State of California, and eventually in the entire country, is for everyone to have those advantages. The right to an education that doesn’t beggar a person afterwards.” There was rueful laughter from her staff, most of whom were graduate students who would probably be paying off their student loans until they reached retirement age. “The right to decent healthcare that does not force a person to choose between death or destitution. The right to equal pay, regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation. All of these issues, and so many others, are on my agenda, but to do this, I will need each and every one of you by my side. Together, we will win this fight, and begin to steer this country in the right direction.”

 

When she finished speaking, the room erupted with applause and cheers, led by Claudia, who did one of those ear-splitting whistles that people usually save for football matches and the like. Helena smiled, acknowledging the applause, and Myka’s arm was suddenly around her waist, pulling her closer. Helena looked at her, and Myka’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. She kissed Helena softly, whispering in her ear, “You’re amazing, Helena.”

 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed silent, just smiling. The applause continued until Claudia shouted again.

 

“Right, that’s enough, you’ve seen her, now get back to work!”

 

And they did, with an efficiency that made Helena feel hopeful for the future of her campaign. Claudia approached them, giving them both a quick hug.

 

“C’mon, HG. I’ll show you your office.”

 

She practically dragged them towards the rear of the building and to a small office with Helena’s name on the door. It was obviously an addition to the open-plan office space, with a wooden frame and glass walls.

 

“You remember I told you about that glass that you can switch to opaque and back, HG?” Claudia asked as they sat round the small table in the office.

 

“Yes, I believe I do,” Helena said.

 

“Well, look at this!” Claudia exclaimed, picking up a small remote control from the table and pressing the button. As predicted, the glass walls became opaque immediately, and then switched back to see-through as Claudia pressed the button again. “Cool, right? And this way, you get to be the ‘my door is always open’ boss, but still get to have your privacy for meetings and… whatever.” She said the last word while looking sidelong at Myka. Helena glared. And then smiled.

 

“Fine. It’s awesome, Claudia, I completely agree. Now, shall we get to it? How are things going so far?”

 

“Well, so far you’re not particularly well-known, so we need to start spending money on advertising. Those we have polled – a very small number – are fairly positive about you, but they’re the kind of people who would also say they’re fairly positive about pyjamas or satchels or anything at all,” Claudia said disparagingly. “So we need to get the word out, then we need to get some hard numbers.”

 

She went on to give Helena huge amounts of information about how she planned to begin the campaign. It was stunningly detailed and well thought through, and Helena was incredibly impressed by it, and by Claudia. Before she could say anything, though, Myka leaned forward and took Claudia’s hand in hers.

 

“You know, Helena told me you were smart, Claudia, but my God – she didn’t tell me how smart. You are amazing. This plan is amazing. With you in charge, I have absolutely no doubt that we will win this election.”

 

Claudia was staring, starry-eyed, as Myka complimented her, and Helena smiled at both of them before leaning back.

 

“I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she said, smiling broadly. Myka released Claudia’s hand and turned her smile on Helena. It was beautiful; she was beautiful.

 

“Well, I’m gonna go get on with arranging the ad campaign. I’ll leave you guys to settle in here. You should discuss how much you want to get involved with the campaign, Myka. Like if you’re just gonna be arm candy or if you want to get more involved, you all need to let me know. Okay?”

 

She swept out and Myka and Helena sat looking at each other, smiling. Myka tipped her head to one side, questioningly.

 

“What is it, Myka?” Helena asked, quietly.

 

“I was wondering if you wanted me to be more involved, or if you just wanted me to be your arm candy. I don’t have any experience running a campaign, but there might be ways in which I can help.”

 

Helena smiled.

 

“I’m absolutely positive that there is plenty that you can contribute to this campaign, Myka. And I would be more than happy to listen to any and all ideas you have, as would Claudia, I’m sure. You have inside knowledge about the Democratic Party through your father, which we might be able to use. You are welcome here, Myka, and I want you to get as involved as you want. You are free, though, to do as little as you want, too. The agreement that we made,” she said, softening her voice and standing to close the door, “does not require you to do any more than be at my side for rallies and television spots and the like. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

 

Myka looked at her curiously.

 

“I know what the contract says, Helena. But what do you actually want from me? You said you wanted a partner. I’m not pretending to have any sort of experience in campaigning or politics, but I’ve been around politicians for most of my life, so I know how they operate. I will do whatever you need.”

 

“I want you to be comfortable, Myka. I would like someone by my side to make the decisions, to share in all of it. But if you would prefer only to make appearances at public events and the like, that will do the trick, I think. Or at least that’s what Deb seemed to think. Above all, I want you to be happy with whatever you do.”

 

Myka regarded her seriously.

 

“Is this about this morning? About what happened between us?”

 

Helena flushed.

 

“No. Or not entirely, at least. I just… I don’t want you to think that I expect anything from you, either in terms of being active in the campaign, or… sexually. We are married but I don’t want you to think that means… I…” she trailed off uncertainly. How had she come to be this… stupid and unable to speak, when it came to Myka Bering?

 

She was surprised to find that Myka had pressed the button that turned the windows opaque. She looked up to find Myka standing above her.

 

“What…?” Helena managed, before Myka was straddling her lap and kissing her.

 

“I make my own decisions, Helena Wells. And I can read. I read the damn contract before I signed it. I kissed you – I am kissing you – because I want to. So you just need to stop worrying now, okay, honey? Because you – I like you. I believe in you. That speech you just gave? It made me want to kiss you. So here I am, kissing you.”

 

She was looking at Helena seriously, her green eyes darkened with desire. Helena nodded, once, and leaned forward to kiss Myka again, putting her arms around her waist. Myka pushed forward, rocking their bodies together, and ran one hand up the back of Helena’s neck into her hair. The kiss was wet and hungry and intense and Helena began to lose control of herself.

 

“God, Myka,” she whispered, “I don’t know how to explain what you do to me.”

 

“The feeling is mutual,” Myka said, almost into Helena’s mouth. They kissed again, and Helena grabbed Myka’s buttocks, hard – as she had been instructed to, if she ever felt the need. Myka groaned and began to grind herself into Helena’s lap, causing a short-circuit of Helena’s brain. She pulled Myka closer again, her fingertips squeezing at the lean muscle of her ass.

 

“God, Helena,” Myka ground out, pulling at Helena’s hair.

 

Helena took a deep breath and drew back, waiting for Myka to still her movement.

 

“We shouldn’t do this, Myka.”

 

“Why not?” Myka said, frustrated. “The damn walls are opaque, right?”

 

“Yes, they are, but that’s not the point, Myka. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it right. Preferably in a bed, and with some romance involved. If things go well, we will be spending a lot of time together for at least the next four years. I want to do this right.”

 

Myka ran her fingers through her hair, sighing a little, but then she smiled down at Helena.

 

“You’re right. This is all a little fast for me, to be honest. You just… you make me want to forget being sensible.”

 

“Believe me, Myka,” Helena growled, “I have no desire whatsoever to be sensible. I want very much to test Claudia’s precious glass. But you are not a conquest, Myka Bering-Wells, and I want you to know how much you mean to me if and when this should happen between us.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, smiling. “I think that’s the sweetest rejection I’ve ever had.”

 

“Not a rejection,” Helena corrected softly, touching Myka’s lower lip reverently. “A postponement. Until we have the time and the circumstances you deserve.”

 

Myka kissed Helena’s finger, and then sighed and stood up.

 

“Okay. Let me go and talk to Claudia and we’ll see what we can come up in terms of my participation in the campaign. You okay in here for now?”

 

Helena nodded, and Myka went off to locate Claudia. Helena looked around her small office, and out at the larger office which was filled with energy and young people who wanted to make a difference. It heartened her somewhat, and she sat down at the desk and switched on her computer to start looking at the huge quantity of emails that had already been sent to her.

 

Several hours later, Myka returned with a cup of tea and a sandwich for Helena, who was studiously proof-reading a letter that one of the interns had written for the purpose of sending out to Helena’s future constituents to gain their support.

 

“Hey, honey,” Myka said, before closing the door behind her and putting the tray of food on the small table. “I thought we could eat something together. We’re both still on East Coast time, I think.”

 

Helena smiled at her, realising how hungry and tired she was, all of a sudden, when presented with the food and caffeine.

 

“Thank you, Myka. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

 

“No problem. So, how’s it going?” she asked, taking a bite out of a salad sandwich on wholemeal bread.

 

“It’s… well, there’s a lot to look at. A good point, I suppose, is that there’s a few tentative enquiries from larger businesses in the LA area who want to support the campaign. They are, by and large, companies that I have dealt with during my time here as an attorney.”

 

Helena took a small sip of her tea, which was hot and doctored just how she liked it. She wondered idly if Myka or Claudia had made it.

 

“Well, that’s pretty good news, right?” Myka asked.

 

“Yes, it is. But for each positive enquiry, there are approximately 20 or 30 calling me a whore or a dirty homosexual or deviant or an agent of Satan.”

 

“How the hell did those emails even get through your firewall?” Myka asked, looking appalled.

 

“Well. The email address is publically available and I told Claudia I wanted to see everything that came in that wasn’t spam, even the hate mail. I am rather regretting that decision now, I must admit. But it is useful to take the temperature of the people, so to speak. Even if it does make me feel rather like I’ve been shat upon from a great height,” she said, dejectedly.

 

Myka reached over to take her hand.

 

“Hey. You can’t let this stuff get to you, Helena. You are amazing. You are giving your whole life – the next 12 years, potentially – to try and make a difference. And if they think that you – that this part of you – is the most important part? Then you’d never have been able to get through to them anyway. So get Claudia to filter them out, okay. Someone can count them if you want to ‘take the temperature’ or whatever. But there’s no need to look at that shit,” Myka said, spitting out the last word and surprising Helena a little.

 

“Thank you, Myka. You’re probably right. Those people would never vote for me anyway, so let them shout into the void,” she said, smiling and trying to push the deluge of hate out of her mind. It would occur to her, much later, that ignoring those people had been a very bad idea, but by then it would be much too late.

 

~

 

Helena and Myka returned to Helena’s home approximately two hours after lunch. Both were exhausted and disoriented by the time change.

 

“I hope you like take out,” Helena said wearily as they entered the house. Helena kicked off her boots and Myka followed suit. They both collapsed on the sofa, both closing their eyes for a few moments. Helena tried to switch off her brain, which was racing. There was so much to do, and her brain wouldn’t stop whirring. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw stars behind her eyelids.

 

“So, there was a mention of take-out?” Myka murmured, suddenly very close to Helena. She opened her eyes and Myka had moved to sit next to her, looking at her with some concern.

 

“Indeed there was,” Helena said. “Do you have a preference?”

 

“No, I don’t. You?”

 

“Not really. Shall we have a look at one of those online thingies? Where you can order from lots of places?”

 

“Sure,” Myka said. Helena took her laptop from her briefcase and found the website in question. They went for Italian, both fancying something comforting and a little decadent. They even ordered dessert.

 

“Tell me you have wine, please?” Myka asked, pleading.

 

“Of course. But you do know it’s actually only 4pm?” Helena asked.

 

“Really?” Myka asked, groaning.

 

“It is, indeed. Why don’t you go for a swim while we wait for the food? It might refresh you a little.”

 

Myka brightened immediately.

 

“Is that okay? Like, is the pool okay to be used?” she asked almost eagerly.

 

“Yes. It’s maintained regularly; they were here only a few days ago. The control to retract the pool cover is by the door.”

 

Myka almost jumped up, seemingly revitalised by the realisation that she had a pool at her disposal. She went off to their room and changed, sauntering past Helena a few moments later in a black one-piece swimsuit that showed off her legs and made Helena gape. She was carrying a soft white robe of Helena’s.

 

“Are you okay for me to borrow this?” Myka asked, smiling.

 

“Ah…yes, of course, Myka,” she said, attempting a smile. Her mind was saying “take it all, take everything I own, let me just be allowed to look at you, please. Just to look, that’s all.”

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, and went out through the patio doors to the pool. Helena watched in stunned silence as Myka retracted the cover and then dove in to the pool, leaving hardly a ripple in her wake. Helena watched her, drifting into an almost meditative state as she watched Myka swim in strong, even strokes.

 

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her reverie and she went to grab the food, most of which she swiftly deposited in the oven to stay warm before going to inform Myka of its arrival.

 

Myka spotted her and slowed, coming to a stop at the edge of the pool next to Helena, a huge grin on her face.

 

“I take it you’re a fan of the pool, then?” Helena asked, with some amusement.

 

Myka just nodded enthusiastically before floating across to the steps and pulling herself out. Helena, once again, was reduced to gaping as water sheeted off Myka’s lean, muscled body. Myka wrapped herself in Helena’s bathrobe.

 

“Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?” Myka asked, turning to catch Helena with her mouth open, once again.

 

“The… ah, the food is in the oven, so you have as long as you like,” Helena said, smiling. Myka gave her a slightly sly smile and nod, disappearing into the house and down the corridor to their room.

 

Helena replaced the pool cover before going back inside and opening a bottle of red wine to give it time to breathe. She idly switched on the television to try to distract herself from lingering thoughts of both her campaign and of Myka’s long legs. She was dismayed, therefore, to find that an advertisement was airing on a major local station for her most vocal opponent, Walter Sykes, who was running on a Republican platform. He was pretty much her opposite in every way and she expected nothing but dirty tricks from him. His assistant, Marcus Diamond, who would be Lieutenant Governor if Sykes were elected, had a bad reputation in the business world for getting things done in an underhanded and at times, violent way – if the rumours were to be believed, of course.

 

The advertisement went exactly as she would have imagined. Walter Sykes was a veteran, in a wheelchair following an attack on his unit by insurgents. He was a vicious racist and xenophobe, and the point of this particular advertisement was fear-mongering. He painted a picture of an America beset by immigrants, all of whom would steal jobs and money from decent Americans while simultaneously plotting to kill them in the name of some god or another. All immigrants were the same to him, Mexican, Domenican, Angolan, Egyptian. They were all brown, and they were all bad and not as worthy of human rights as good white Americans. Helena sighed as she watched the predictable commercial play out, with a flag blowing in the wind behind a steely-eyed Walter Sykes, who promised to protect America for “real” Americans.

 

“He’s not pulling any punches, is he?” Myka breathed, making Helena jump. She hadn’t even noticed Myka come in.

 

“No, he’s not. The man is ridiculous. He hasn’t got a single concrete policy; everything is wisps of anti-immigration or anti-gun control. None of it makes sense. But given what I read today, I don’t doubt that there will be people – many people – who will vote for him against their own interests.”

 

“Like turkeys voting for Christmas,” Myka murmured, drying her hair on a towel.

 

“Quite,” Helena said. “Now I’m glad I opened that wine. Can I offer you a glass?”

 

“Yes please,” Myka said, flopping down on the sofa with a sigh.

 

Helena went to pour the wine and brought it to the dining table. She began to retrieve their meal from the oven, watching the cheese bubble on the lasagne and chicken parmesan. There was a crisp side salad and, to top off the comfort food aspect of the meal, garlic dough balls that this particular restaurant was famous for.

 

Myka came to join her, taking a large sip of her wine before sitting.

 

“Wow, that’s really good,” she said, savouring the taste on her tongue. Helena longed to taste the wine, but not from her own glass. Her libido wanted her to taste it from Myka’s mouth. She managed to calm herself, however, and sat down at the table overlooking the park. The view was fairly spectacular, and was the main reason she’d purchased this particular house.

 

She encouraged Myka to dig in, and they both ate in silence for a while. Helena was lost in thought about how to combat the negativity of Walter Sykes’ campaign, and how best to defuse the anti-immigrant sentiment he appeared to be trying to encourage.

 

“You okay over there?” Myka asked gently.

 

“Yes, of course,” Helena said, slightly startled and a little embarrassed at her rudeness. “I’m so sorry. I was just a little lost in thought.”

 

“About?” Myka asked, spearing a piece of chicken as she watched Helena.

 

“Mr Sykes and his campaign of terror and hatred,” she said with a sigh. “It incenses me that people still use those kinds of tactics in politics, and it worries me that I have to fight against it. Because I don’t know how a person fights against that sort of hyperbole.”

 

“Well, that’s why Claudia is there, and Deb, and me, and all of the other people that are going to be involved in your campaign. To help you strategise and make the right decisions,” Myka said encouragingly.

 

“I am very glad to have you all around me, Myka. I suppose it’s just that – I see it as a sort of disease, this kind of thing. The hatred, the rabble-rousing, the blaming of everyone else in the world for our problems. It makes me want to just dig it out, all this diseased thinking, and burn it all so that it doesn’t spread. Why people have to be that way I just don’t understand,” she said, taking a fierce bite from a dough ball.

 

“Hey, don’t take it out on the dough balls,” Myka chided gently, taking Helena’s hand and squeezing it. “There is plenty of good in the world, Helena. It’s so easy to get caught up in the bad, in the fear and hatred. But the people around you, the ones who love you? They’re the ones you need to pay attention to, not the Walter Sykes’ of this world.”

 

Helena looked at Myka, once again marvelling at having found her, this amazing person with beautiful eyes who saw the beauty in the world instead of the grime and disease that sometimes tattooed Helena’s view of the world.

 

“This is part of what I was talking about, when I said I wanted to be your tether, Helena. You’re gonna see so much of this stuff, this darkness, in the world. Politics is nasty. It will make you believe that people are all rotten at the core. But you’re not. I’m not. You have friends who care about you, and an amazing family. You need to remember that. You need to use that, to recharge you, to help you to deal with the other parts of your life that aren’t so bright. So promise me you will, Helena, please?” she pleaded, her heart clearly in her eyes.

 

“I… I don’t know what to say, Myka. You are amazing, are you aware of that? I went out looking for someone to make me look like I wasn’t just a trashy English bitch, like I had roots. But I found you, a genuine, caring human. It makes me wonder what I’ve done right to deserve you.”

 

Myka blushed a beautiful crimson, dropping her head slightly in embarrassment. They continued to eat in silence, and this time Helena looked at the view, or looked at Myka, and each time she smiled and felt something like hope well up in her.

 

They spent the evening reading and watching some television. Myka preferred watching documentaries and historical programming. Helena enjoyed those things too, but she enjoyed science fiction and occasionally enjoyed watching something trashy and a bit daft. They talked and argued good-naturedly about what was on television. They washed the plates from their dinner together and had a cup of herbal tea before bed. They stayed up as late as they could manage, to try to begin adjusting to West Coast time, but at 10pm they had to admit defeat. By 10:15pm they were in bed, and Myka was once again curling herself around Helena’s body.

 

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” Helena said, quietly.

 

“What do you mean?” Myka murmured, already half-asleep.

 

“I mean sleeping in the same bed. I mean the cuddling,” Helena said, gently.

 

“Well,” Myka said, waking up a little, “Deb told me you might struggle with the physical side of things, so she encouraged me to initiate this sort of thing – the cuddling, specifically – to get you used to all of this. Us touching and looking like we’re a couple in love. Is it bothering you? Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?” she asked, looking a little upset by the notion. Why, Helena couldn’t tell.

 

“No, that’s not it. I’m actually – I’m very comfortable with you, Myka. I just… you agreed to marry me. You agreed to play the part of my wife. There is no obligation on you to do anything else. We can work something out about the sleeping arrangements if you and Deb think we need to sleep in the same room. But you don’t have to do this,” she said, gesturing at their current posture – Myka with her arm draped across Helena’s abdomen, her face against Helena’s shoulder.

 

“I know, Helena,” Myka said, slightly exasperated. “I get that you want me to know that I’m not required to have sex with you, or whatever it is you think I’m frightened of. But I like you, Helena. And Deb is right. To maintain the illusion of us being a married couple, we should sleep together. It’s not an imposition. Sleeping with you this last few nights has been really nice. Comforting. I thought it would be weird, but it felt right, even that first night. So will you calm down and just let it be? I like you, and there’s nothing to stop us here having an actual relationship if we want,” she said, causing Helena’s stomach to drop rather dramatically. “Not that I’m saying I want that. We’ve only just met. Let’s get to know each other. I am just saying, stop panicking. I know I am not required to have sex with you. But the physical contact, the pet names? They’re necessary and I don’t mind, so stop, okay? Just – just put your arms around me, and let’s sleep.”

 

Helena didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded.  She turned to face Myka and put her arm around Myka’s waist, and they fell asleep like that, face to face, entwined together.

 

~

 

The following few days were busy. Helena recorded several versions of her first campaign commercials with Myka by her side, met with what felt like hundreds of potential campaign contributors, and attended 3 small town hall meetings. Small was an understatement. Miniscule was more like it. In the evenings, she and Myka ate together, whether it was takeout or something simple that one or other of them prepared, and they talked. They talked a lot. They talked about how Myka grew up in Colorado, how her father called the bookshop Bering and Sons, and when she came along she was a disappointment to him – a disappointment that he had never, apparently, been able to get over. Helena told Myka about her mother, who she was named after. A famous actress, famous for her philandering with all of her male leads, she left after her second child – Helena – was born, and that’s when Charles Senior took over. He changed their dirty nappies, he washed them, he fed them, he held them when they cried. He was a terribly inept father at first – at least according to the household staff and the extended family – but he muddled through, and as they grew up, it became clear that their father would do anything for them. Helena rebelled for a while after she was forced to move to the States - dyeing her hair stupid colours, sleeping with all the wrong people – but eventually she realised that her father moving them to the States was to increase opportunities for his children.

 

They got to know each other a little better every day, and while at night their intimacy was limited to sleeping in one another’s arms, during the day they behaved, as much as possible, like a couple. Small touches, like a hand in the small of Helena’s back, a kiss on her forehead, when others were around, and sometimes even when they weren’t. For practice, Myka said. But there was a look in her eyes at times that Helena couldn’t interpret. She put it down to having known Myka for only a week – she couldn’t be expected to really know someone in that time. But sometimes she wondered if there was more to Myka’s interest in her than simply wanting to support her all the way to the presidency.

 

Myka was spending her time with Claudia – they were working on something, but what that was, they were keeping to themselves for now. Helena wasn’t concerned. Myka was an intelligent woman and whatever she wanted to spend her time on was fine. And Claudia was trustworthy. Helena had known her for the best part of 8 years. She had helped Claudia to emancipate herself from the foster system and mentored her since the age of 16. So whatever she and Myka were cooking up, Helena was sure it was for the good of the campaign, or for Helena’s good. Or both. So she was unconcerned. She did, however, present Myka with keys to her own car, which had been delivered the week after she and Myka arrived, along with the paperwork and cards relating to a new bank account and a credit card account in her married name.

 

“Helena, this is too much!” Myka had protested. “I don’t need this – I have savings and since we’re living together in a house you own, I don’t have many expenses. It’s not necessary!”

 

Helena had smiled at her – a little uncertainly, it had to be said, and waved a hand dismissively.

 

“All of this – it’s just for the look of the thing, Myka. The contract you signed said you would be looked after, and that means financially. So money will be deposited in your account monthly, and your credit card doesn’t have a limit. Or so the accountants tell me. It affords you some freedom, at least, having a car and your own money. So if you would rather stay away from the campaign until you’re needed, you can feel free to do so. I don’t want you to feel confined, here, Myka. You are welcome to live your own life until such times as you are needed.”

 

“But Helena, this is a lot of money. A lot. And you are depositing the same each month? It makes me feel like…” she trailed off, frowning.

 

“You feel like a kept woman? A whore?” Helena asked, quietly.

 

“A little, yes,” Myka admitted, chewing on her lip.

 

“Well, that is not my intention, Myka. The sort of clothes you have to wear for the campaign are expensive. This first stipend is larger than the rest will be, partially for you to build a new wardrobe. Claudia can give you numbers of tailors and stylists. Theatre is expensive in LA, so are restaurants. Everything is expensive. And as the wife of someone like me, you will be expected to maintain a certain lifestyle. It’s about appearances, Myka. You might not feel like you need to have all that money, Myka, but it will become clear that you need it. I’m not trying to make you feel like a prostitute. You’re my partner in this, and we both signed a marriage contract. What’s mine is yours, and you are free to have a look at my financials – what I’m giving you is a small amount in comparison, Myka,” she said, meeting Myka’s eyes evenly. “I am the majority shareholder in a huge company, and I have a very large trust fund. I am, as Claudia puts it, totally loaded. This money is a stipend for you to spend as you wish.”

 

Myka nodded reluctantly, and Helena made a mental note to have her accountant send through a report on her financials to Myka, to reassure her.

 

That night was a little quieter, and Myka was a little more thoughtful and distant. Helena left her to her thoughts, spending her own time having a swim followed by reading some of the campaign materials that Claudia’s staff had put together. They were impressive; well written, with flawless and well-chosen imagery. Myka had retreated to the room she had designated as her study. There was soft music – jazz, Helena thought – emanating from under the closed door. Helena sighed a few times as she looked at that door. There were few images as clear as a closed door, she thought. Which made her jot down a few notes about perhaps using that imagery in some material about their proposed immigration policies.

 

After a time, Helena grew tired, deciding to go to bed. She knocked on Myka’s closed door softly on her way past to the bedroom, and told Myka that she was turning in.

 

“Okay, Helena,” was the only response. Helena sighed silently and went to bed, using some of Steve’s meditation tricks to slow her mind and calm her enough to sleep.

 

She caught a glimpse of the clock when Myka climbed into bed beside her – it was past 3am. Myka slept with her back to Helena, and Helena didn’t sleep half as well without Myka’s arms around her.

 

The following morning as Helena was buttering some toast in the kitchen and halving a grapefruit for Myka, who was still showering, she sent off a quick email to her accountants asking them to send the required information to Myka. She hoped fervently that it would alleviate at least some of Myka’s worries. She made some fresh coffee and brewed some tea for herself, allowing the small rituals to calm her mind.

 

“I’m sorry,” Myka’s voice came from behind her, soft and gentle.

 

Helena turned. Myka was dressed in a trouser suit, her hair tamed and pulled back, a little, so that it was less of a halo around her head. She had dark circles under her eyes.

 

“Why?” Helena asked, simply, pouring a cup of coffee and passing it to Myka wordlessly.

 

“You did a good thing. You told me from the beginning that you wanted me to have freedom to do what I wanted. So you keep your word, and I respond by going off on you and accusing you of treating me like a whore? I’m so sorry, Helena. I just… I think I overreacted because of how my dad was. I don’t know if you heard everything that he said, but he asked me how much you were paying me to marry you, and although that’s a complete twisting of the truth, it made me a little – oversensitive.”

 

Helena took a sip of her tea, leaning back against the counter and regarding Myka through slightly narrowed eyes. Truth be told, she was a little angry. She had done nothing – nothing, to make Myka mistrust her.

 

“I suppose it’s understandable, in the circumstances,” she said carefully, neutrally. Myka winced.

 

“Wow. I guess that’s what you look like when you’re really mad, huh?”

 

Helena waited for a moment before replying to that.

 

“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely accurate. Perhaps upset would be more the right word. I didn’t think I had given you any reason to mistrust me, but it appears I was wrong. My reputation as a philanderer has obviously left you thinking less of me. I hope one day I will be able to earn your trust.” Again, she spoke in a neutral tone, as she realised that what she said was true. She was hurt. Myka had hurt her.

 

“I…I’m really, really sorry, Helena. I reacted without thinking, and I compounded the error by stewing on it all damn night, and leaving you to worry. You didn’t deserve that. You’ve done _nothing_ to deserve that. You explained to me why you were seeing all those girls, and I understood that, and I don’t judge you for it. You didn’t deserve this reaction from me. I’m sorry.”

 

Helena regarded her calmly.

 

“Okay,” she said shortly. Myka tilted her head.

 

“Really? That’s it?”

 

“Yes,” Helena said, nodding. “Why don’t we have some breakfast and see if we can’t do better in trusting one another today?”

 

Myka nodded cautiously. But as they ate in silence, Helena could feel the barriers around her heart - first erected when Nate abandoned her - grow a little thicker.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this week I had a lovely message in my inbox from the wonderful @abolynn with a link to this post : http://abolynn.tumblr.com/post/150185986330/if-you-have-not-read-dirty-little-secrets-yet. Is it just me, or is art based on one’s own fanfic, like, the dream? Also, that may be the first time I’ve ever referred to myself as ‘one’. Helena and Myka come to a detente.

* * *

 

The budding intimacy that was growing between them - the touching in private, the making out like teenagers – it all ceased after that argument. Helena did not want to open her heart to Myka anymore than she had done, not if it ended in her being hurt again. Myka did not press the issue, and Helena didn’t ask why. Myka began to spend most afternoons away from the campaign offices, taking a leaf from Helena’s book and using Helena’s car service rather than attempting to drive in the city herself. Helena told herself that it didn’t matter where Myka was going; she could do what she wanted, as long as she was discreet. Their contract didn’t necessarily preclude them having other partners if they were discreet. Extremely discreet. That didn’t stop the mental images, however. She tried to be sensible and concentrate on work as they upped their publicity and coverage of the campaign - the ‘town hall’ events were becoming much larger and soon they were receiving requests for television interviews. It was Claudia’s opinion that they should ignore those until they became more desperate.

 

In between the press events and meeting the people of the State, they were working with attorneys and members of various communities to put together robust and coherent policies on equality legislation, gun control, equal marriage, which was once again under threat from people like Walter Sykes, who had threatened to gang up with other right-wing politicians and get the law stricken from the books. How they planned to do that, Helena didn’t know, but she knew that they would do their utmost to make life hard for the LGBT community and any others they decided to dislike for whatever religious or other reason they came up with. It both hardened her resolve and chipped away at it, that those people wanted to take rights away from others for no good reason – or worse, that they wanted to change the laws to benefit their religion, when the country had been founded on the principle of separation of church and state. They were also discussing strategies for dealing with the growing problem of institutional racism in the various law enforcement agencies across the State.

 

It had been five weeks since Myka and Helena had moved to California, and for the last three weeks and 2 days, Myka had been disappearing for several hours in the afternoon before arriving back just as Helena was ready to leave for the day. Helena didn’t ask, and Myka didn’t tell. The irony made her laugh softly to herself. Their evenings were silent and while Myka still wrapped herself around Helena in bed, there was little touching or communication between them otherwise.

 

“Helena?” Myka’s voice intruded into her slightly bitter thoughts. It was almost the end of the work day, and Helena hadn’t seen her since they arrived at the office that morning.

 

“Yes?” Helena said politely, but distantly.

 

“Would you mind if I showed you something?”

 

Helena turned to look at Myka, curious but also – detached.

 

“Whatever you wish, Myka.”

 

Myka directed the driver to an address not far from Helena’s old place of work. As they pulled up, Helena was surprised to see both William Wolcott and his wife Kelly Hernandez waiting outside a large Warehouse that had been deserted for decades even before Helena had opened her own legal practice in the area.

 

She looked at Myka in bafflement, and saw that Myka was smiling widely at her.

 

“Go on, say hi,” she said, tilting her head in that way that Helena adored so much.

 

Helena stepped out of the car carefully, hugging Wolly and Kelly in complete confusion.

 

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” she asked.

 

“We are here to invite you to view the Christina Wells homeless shelter before it opens,” Wolcott said, smiling at her, showing all of his teeth.

 

“The what?” Helena said, sounding very much like an idiot parrot.

 

“The Christina Wells shelter for the homeless,” Myka said, gently. “I used the money you gave me to buy the building, once I’d traced the owners. They were really happy to get rid of it, actually. And then when I’d run out of money I used your credit card buying beds and shower fittings and kitchen equipment and – well, Wolly did most of the actual arranging of things, and volunteers have been working really hard to get it ready. Claudia managed to arrange the planning permission by making a whole lot of phone calls and calling in a lot of favours. Do you want to come inside?”

 

Helena nodded dumbly and Myka took her arm, pulling her slowly into the building with Kelly and Wolly in their wake. She stared as Myka showed her dorm rooms for men, women, children, families. A fully fitted out kitchen for a large operation. Small private bathrooms for families, large separate shower rooms for men and women.

 

“There will be plenty of volunteers to make sure that there are no assaults, that everyone is safe. There’s also going to be a library upstairs, several common rooms and even a classroom upstairs for those who want to do basic courses in Math and English. A couple of local companies have donated money, time, food, and we have several teachers who want to donate their time. It’s a real community effort, and Wolly and Kelly here were the ones who thought of it. I was looking for something to fill my time, like you said, and this is what they suggested, because you saved William, and he wanted to save other people,” Myka said, finishing her little speech breathlessly. She looked anxious and as if she didn’t know how Helena was going to respond.

 

Helena looked round at them all, stunned.

 

“You did all this – within the space of a month?” she asked, turning in a circle to take it all in. “And you named it after my daughter?”

 

“Well, not just us – there were plenty of volunteers. And a lot of generous delivery guys. We’re going to open next week after we get the last few things in place. Finish the painting and fix the roof,” Wolly said, in an uncharacteristically long speech. Kelly looked up at him fondly, hugging him close.

 

Helena turned to look at Myka.

 

“This is what you’ve been doing?” she asked, quietly.

 

Myka nodded.

 

“I didn’t really do that much – I just came and checked on things once a day, tried to keep the guys motivated,” Myka said, smiling shyly.

 

“That’s bullshit, Myka,” Kelly said, laughing. “She came here every day, Helena. She took off her pretty jacket and she cleaned and painted, she went out and bought food and sodas for everyone, she even bought radios for all the different rooms so everyone had something to sing along to, she even helped with some of the building work. She’s amazing, Helena. I can see why you guys fell in love.”

 

Helena just stared. She had been thinking the worst, that Myka had found someone else already and was disappearing off to meet with her – or him.

 

“Hey, Helena. Are you okay?” Myka’s voice interrupted her gently.

 

Helena turned to her, awed and confused. She had thought that Myka was off doing her own thing, and here she was, not only doing something that looked incredibly good for Helena’s campaign, but that would really make a difference to the people in this area. Something that would make a difference for Wolly, to his self-worth. She had taken the money Helena was giving her and she spent it on setting up a homeless shelter, and she had done so in less than a month.

 

“This must have cost more than that stipend I gave you, Myka. Even a building like this.”

 

Myka blushed.

 

“Well, I… I hope you won’t mind too much, but – I sold the car you gave me.”

 

“You sold an $250000 Mercedes AMG to buy a building, to make it into a homeless shelter?” Helena said, mildly horrified and also incredibly impressed.

 

“I did. Sorry,” Myka said, looking pathetic. She actually fluttered her eyelashes at Helena.

 

Helena just stared. She would have gladly given Myka the money for this. And that car was bloody gorgeous. But what Myka had done -  it was amazingly generous. Thoughtful, clever, and wonderful.

 

“You are amazing, Myka Bering,” Helena said, in a low voice. “Amazing. I don’t have the words. You…I’m speechless.”

 

“Well, that’s a first,” quipped Wolly, smiling broadly. “I’ve never seen Helena Wells speechless before.”

 

Myka smiled shyly at her.

 

“You’re happy about this? Are you sure?”

 

Helena kissed her. She didn’t mean to. Her body just reacted, and threw itself at Myka, more or less. She flung her arms around Myka’s neck and she kissed her with huge enthusiasm, grasping a handful of Myka’s hair and pushing their bodies together. She could tell that Myka was a little startled, but then she was kissing back, and Helena was once again thinking about dying of thirst, and long, cool drinks of water in the desert… And then Myka pulled away, her face red, as Wolly wolf-whistled.

 

“I told you,” Kelly stage-whispered to Wolly, “these two are made for each other.”

 

Helena turned a wry smile on them both.

 

“Thank you for being so subtle in your observations, Kelly darling. But I believe you are correct. Myka is wonderful. I don’t deserve her.”

 

Myka was looking at her sternly.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Helena. You’re amazing. Look at what you’re doing! You’re dedicating your life to serving other people. I’m just trying to support you in whatever small way I can.”

 

“I can’t believe what you’ve managed to achieve in such a short time, Myka. You are a marvel,” Helena said, almost whispering. They were still standing next to one another, so very close, and Helena couldn’t stop staring at Myka, who was looking at her, then looking away for a moment shyly, and then looking back, as if her gaze was being pulled back to Helena. She put her arms around Helena after a long moment, pulling her close and kissing the side of her neck. Helena put her hands in Myka’s coat pockets, savouring the warmth of Myka’s body, and rested her head on Myka’s shoulder for a long moment.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Myka,” Helena whispered in her ear.

 

“Thank you,” Myka said, shyly.

 

Helena stepped back, taking Myka’s hand, and thanked Kelly and Wolly, complimenting the work they’d done and urging them to contact her or Myka if there were any problems with the rest of the setup or with anything else they might need. They also agreed to have dinner together the following week.

 

Myka and Helena returned to their car in silence, still hand in hand.

 

“Why did you do that, Myka?” Helena blurted.

 

“What do you mean?” Myka asked, confused – and a little hurt, by her expression.

 

“I mean, you could have done anything with that money, Myka. You could be having daily massages, you could be drinking the day away, riding, playing tennis or golf or any of the thousands of other things that the rich and idle do with their time. You spent all of your money on a homeless shelter. Not only that, you gave your own time to set it up, and you involved people that I care about very deeply in an endeavour that you knew would mean a huge amount to them and to me. So I ask you again, why did you do that? Was it because you wanted to help me politically? Was this Claudia’s idea? Or was it yours? What was your motivation?” Helena asked, watching Myka carefully.

 

Myka flushed slightly as Helena was talking, and avoided her eyes when responding.

 

“I did it for a lot of reasons, Helena. The first is - of course - to help your campaign find its feet. Helping people from the local area where your law firm started off? That’s a great story. And getting Wolly involved – well, I thought for a long time before deciding to do that. I didn’t know him or his story, but I knew that you had helped him a lot, and I thought he might want to give something back, to you and to this community. So I had Claudia call and arrange a lunch for us and it snowballed from there. Without him, though, Helena, it wouldn’t have happened anywhere near as quickly. There were dozens of people working almost around the clock the whole time working on repairing the electrics and patching up holes in walls and floors. And cleaning. The smell – it was unbelievable. And Wolly - he did most of this all by himself, Helena. You know he’s been working with these people for a long time, so it was his influence that persuaded people to help. And I’ve been watching you, Helena. Your interviews, the meetings – I can see that they’re wearing on you, that you’re giving more than you’re getting back. All this schmoozing for campaign funds – I can tell that you hate it. So I thought if I started something real, even if it only helped a small number of people – I thought it might help, to recharge you. Help your resolve.”

 

She finished speaking in a rush, and dared a quick glance at Helena, who was still in a minor state of shock at what Myka had done. But it was turning, quickly, to a warm feeling that multiplied and turned liquid and expanded every time she saw Myka’s face. It felt uncomfortably familiar, and the more she tried to push it down, the more it welled up in her.

 

“Thank you, Myka,” she whispered. Myka stared at her for a long moment before simply nodding. They continued home in silence, and Helena quickly excused herself for a swim.

 

When she returned from her swim, Myka was in the kitchen, and there was something delicious-smelling on the stove.

 

“Myka?” Helena asked, confused.

 

“I thought I’d make you something nice. You seem a little… I don’t know. Freaked out, or something. Is that okay?” Myka asked anxiously. She was wearing an apron over her office attire, and had somehow managed to get some sort of pasta sauce on the side of her face, a fact of which she was apparently unaware. Helena couldn’t help but stare, not just with desire, with that intense burn she’d been feeling since they met, but with a fondness, a feeling that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for far too long. Or perhaps not long enough. She forgot herself for a moment, standing in her swimsuit with a towel forgotten in her hand as her hair dripped on the stone tiles.

 

“Helena?”

 

Helena shook herself out of her daze to find that Myka had stepped closer, her face concerned.

 

“Sorry, Myka. Did you say something?”

 

“I asked you if it was okay. That I made dinner,” Myka said, narrowing her eyes and looking carefully at Helena.

 

“Of course, Myka. Thank you. That’s so thoughtful,” Helena managed, swallowing.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Helena? You just looked at me so strangely…” Myka said, frowning in confusion.

 

“Sorry, Myka. Long day. I’ll just go and have a quick shower and make myself presentable.”

 

And Helena fled. Fled before her body, her heart, could act again and throw her against Myka, to kiss her, to tell her that she was magnificent, to tell her that Helena could look at her forever. Or to tell her something even worse, that Helena could never take back. She knew it was too late; whether she said it or not it was still going to be just as true and just as unwanted, this feeling that it was almost killing her to feel already.

 

She showered as slowly as she dared, trying to steady herself without ruining Myka’s planned dinner. As she walked down the corridor from the bedroom into the open living area, however, she felt that it might as well be written all over her face. It was too late. She had fallen in love with her wife.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The campaign begins to heat up, Myka and Helena ‘come out’ as a married couple, and something else begins to heat up, too.

* * *

 

The next week was extremely busy. The campaign was heating up, and Walter Sykes’ rhetoric had begun to be aimed directly at Helena, rather than at the more nebulous immigrants that he’d been targeting before. Helena was the worst kind of immigrant – an American only on a technicality, a trust fund child who did nothing but take from those around her. She was gliding along on her father’s reputation as a businessman, on her brother’s reputation as a Senator. She was, he implied, untrustworthy because of her many any public flings, and worst of all, she was bisexual. She had abandoned her husband, Sykes alleged, abandoned him in his grief at the loss of their child and moved on to sleep with multiple woman. She did not have the moral character to lead this great State. She was the worst kind of immigrant, he said, because she gave nothing back to the country. Did she even pay taxes?

 

They went on and on, Walter Sykes’ allegations, and they were, Claudia warned, just the beginning.

 

“Marcus Diamond is disgusting. He will dig up every single skeleton he can find. He will use every dirty trick in the book. Walter Sykes will use anything and everything against you. So you two need to dial up the PDA,” she said, pointing at Helena and Myka. “You need to be seen in public, get drunk, fool around a little. I’m getting Steve to come for a couple of days. I’ve been wanting to set him up with Liam.” Liam was one of the older interns. “So he comes here, you go out for dinner and drinks and we leak it to the press. I want pictures of you two looking at each other lovingly. And then I want you to do an interview with one of the networks. They’ve all been asking to see you – I want to give them both of you. Focus on the love story, the real American woman who tamed the wild HG Wells.”

 

Helena nodded, as did Myka. Helena had been struggling with Walter Sykes’ tactics. She was angry, she was hurt, and she was vulnerable. Myka had been soft and sweet and supportive, but Helena was sinking. Every morning she heard things about herself that made her feel dirty. That they had used her dead infant daughter against her had almost broken her, and the campaign wasn’t even a third of the way through. She needed to take action, to take control. The headlines, the disgusting things Sykes and his campaign said, they were running through her head constantly.

 

Steve arrived that weekend, and he took one look at Helena’s wan face and pulled her in for a hug. He held her tightly and kissed her hair.

 

“I’m so sorry, HG. I’m sorry they’re doing this, honey,” he murmured.

 

To her own very great surprise, Helena began to cry. Luckily, Steve was already walking her along to the town car. Myka was on her other side and together they shielded her from any possible attention.

 

When they reached the car Steve pulled Helena in close and she cried her heart out for the entire journey back to the house. When they arrived home she wiped her face and they went inside. Myka showed Steve to the guest room and left him to freshen up, and when she returned she sat next to Helena.

 

“Are you okay, honey?” Myka asked softly.

 

“Yes. I’m sorry, Myka. I lost my composure in public. I can’t afford to do that,” Helena said shortly.

 

Myka stared at her for a moment and then took Helena’s hands in hers.

 

“You are a human being, Helena. You get to feel bad. You get to feel hurt. You get to feel whatever the hell you like. Walter Sykes – he’s an asshole. The man is attacking you and I know that you are hurting. Why did it take Steve coming here for you to react? Why are you holding this in? I’ve been here this whole time, Helena, and you sleep in my arms every night. But you haven’t cried. You haven’t shouted. You’ve been silent this whole time. Why can’t you just let go with me?”

 

Helena didn’t say anything. She just stared at their joined hands.

 

“I thought after…after the homeless shelter, we had established some trust, you know? I thought you knew that I was here for you,” Myka said, frowning.

 

“I do,” Helena said, almost inaudibly.

 

“Then why?”

 

Helena shrugged.

 

“Do you… do you want me to back off, Helena? I’m trying to support you, but if it’s not working, if I’m not helping…” Myka began.

 

“No, that’s not it, Myka. I just… I’m not used to depending on anyone else. Steve and I – we’ve spent years working together and he’s been my closest friend. I suppose that I am comfortable leaning on him on the odd occasion when I become overwhelmed. I’ve never been under this sort of pressure before, though.”

 

“Pressure, Helena? This isn’t pressure! This is like a war – they’re attacking you, every aspect of your character. You need help and support, not just someone you can lean on occasionally,” Myka said, and as she did so, she moved closer to Helena and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Helena sighed and let her head rest on Myka’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll try, Myka. I’m not in the habit, I suppose,” she sighed.

 

“Well, get into the habit. You need this, Helena. You need to depend on someone or you’re gonna go insane.”

 

She squeezed Helena a little closer and kissed her temple. Helena let herself relax, turning her body towards Myka’s and putting her arm across Myka’s abdomen. Myka began rubbing Helena’s back soothingly. They stayed like that until Steve returned from his room, changed and ready to go out.

 

“You guys ready?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

 

“No, not yet, Steve. Sorry,” Helena said, sitting up properly and extricating herself from Myka. “I’ll go have a quick shower and change. Myka, do you want to use the other bathroom so we can save time?”

 

“Sure. You okay here, Steve?” Myka asked.

 

“Yes, of course,” he said, going to the kitchen to brew himself some tea. Had Helena been listening, she would have heard him whisper, “You got it so bad…”

 

They showered and dressed quickly, both wearing almost identical casual outfits – jeans, boots and blue shirts – different shades, but blue nonetheless. The only difference was that Helena was also wearing one of her favourite waistcoats on top. They smiled at one another and Myka took Helena’s hand to lead her out into the living area.

 

“You guys look great,” Steve said, unfolding his long body from the chair and fetching his coat.

 

The restaurant Claudia had chosen was infamous and full of celebrities and LA’s glitterati. It was owned by a celebrity chef who had a television show on a major network. By the time they had made it to their table, they had been greeted by no less than seven different well-known LA celebrities and local politicians, with Helena openly introducing Myka as her wife.

 

Claudia, Liam and Todd, Claudia’s boyfriend, joined them shortly after their arrival, and after they’d ordered, they toasted to Helena’s campaign and to the opening of the homeless shelter, which was due to happen in a few days, having been delayed by a plumbing problem.

 

“Thank you, everyone. And thank you for coming out with us this evening to help us let our hair down and have a good time,” Helena said, toasting them all with her wine.

 

They ate a lovely meal – the celebrity chef’s reputation being well founded – and drank copious amounts of red wine. Myka was sitting next to Helena, and as they had been instructed by Claudia, they were “dialling up the PDA,” which meant lots of touching – of hands on thighs, around waists, of fingertips ghosting across knuckles. Each touch made Helena’s breath catch in her throat, and while she kept talking to herself, telling herself that this was just a charade for the sake of her career, her body, her heart - they didn’t care. They just _wanted_. And after a while, the red wine, her body and her heart won. They were halfway through dessert when Helena - who had stopped listening to the conversation some time ago, listening only to her own libido while she stared at the green of Myka’s eyes and the hint of rose in her cheeks – Helena lost control. Helena forgot where she was, who she was with. She took Myka’s hand and dragged her from her chair to the small corridor leading to the bathroom, and she pushed her against the wall of the corridor. Not aggressively, but not gently either. She kissed those lips that she had been staring at all night and she was extremely pleased when Myka made a noise deep in her throat, putting her arms around Helena’s waist and kissing back passionately, her tongue in Helena’s mouth. After a moment, her hands descended perilously close to Helena’s rear. Helena retained enough sense to grab Myka’s hands and pull them upwards to her lower back – the last thing they needed were pictures of them practically having sex in public – but kissing was okay, even this kind of kissing where Myka’s tongue was painting vivid pictures against Helena’s of what it would like to do, where it would like to go.  And God, did Helena want that. All of it.

 

“I said dial up the PDA, not get us thrown out,” Claudia said from behind them. Helena pulled away from Myka with a real wrenching effort, and took a second, with her forehead resting against Myka’s, before she turned in Myka’s arms to smile at Claudia.

 

“Sorry, Claudia. Did we overdo it?” Helena asked, trying to catch her breath as Myka’s hand teased at the edge of her underwear at the back.

 

“Not exactly,” Claudia said wryly, “but Steve and Liam would like to go clubbing, and I think to be honest that might be the best place for you two right now.”

 

“I think you’re right,” Helena said, as Myka’s hand, hidden from Claudia’s view, began to creep under the edge of her underwear and down from her lower back to her buttock.

 

“Okay. Come on, let’s keep it moderately PG for the paparazzi, okay?” Claudia said, shaking her head. Helena heard Myka chuckle from behind her, and her hand pulled away. Helena mourned the loss. But Myka didn’t let go of her hand, at least.

 

They managed to keep it ‘PG for the paparazzi’, but Myka kept Helena close, and Helena was warmed – figuratively and literally – by the contact.

 

They went to a nearby gay club, which was mostly populated by men – it was one of Liam’s usual haunts, apparently – but it also had the expected complement of straight women – fag hags, they were known as, at least in London – and a few gay women, so Helena and Myka were not entirely out of place.  Claudia and Todd had taken off, with stern warnings from the former that they were not to do anything that could get the campaign in trouble. They hadn’t been followed by any photographers, so it appeared that the rest of the night was their own.

 

Liam and Steve made themselves scarce almost immediately. Helena knew Steve well enough to know that he was smitten with the younger man, and that chances were good that they would go home together, and soon. The dancing, the drinking – it was all part of the courtship ritual, but the ending was inevitable.

 

As that thought entered her head, she turned her head to look at Myka, who was standing behind her, leaning on the wall, one arm around Helena’s abdomen, the other holding a Scotch.

 

“Are you okay, darling?” Helena asked, as Myka’s eyes met hers.

 

“Of course,” Myka said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Well,” Helena began, “I thought I might have taken you a little by surprise earlier.”

 

Myka smiled, her head tilting a little.

 

“I thought that was why we were at the restaurant, Helena,” she murmured. “To get pictures of us being affectionate, showing everyone that we’re in love.”

 

For some reason, hearing Myka say that made a lump develop in Helena’s throat.

 

“Well, yes,” she managed, finally, with a weak smile. She turned her head, leaning it back against Myka’s shoulder, and closed her eyes, taking a sip of her own drink.

 

“You know,” Myka whispered, right next to Helena’s ear, “there’s no reason why we can’t see what happens here. We’ve promised we won’t see other people, and we’re clearly attracted to each other.”

 

Helena turned her head again, looking up slightly. Myka, too, had turned her head and had angled it in such a way that their eyes could meet. There was a question in Myka’s. Helena looked at her for a long moment before turning just a little bit more, so that their lips could meet again. From that angle the advantage was all Myka’s, and she took that advantage and took control of the kiss. Her tongue was in Helena’s mouth, teasing Helena’s, and now it tasted of the harsh burn of Scotch instead of red wine. Her fingers were slipping into the gaps between Helena’s shirt buttons and ghosting along her bare abdomen, making Helena’s stomach twitch.

 

“You never mentioned that, when we were practising,” Myka murmured, her lips moving to Helena’s throat.

 

“I didn’t realise until just now,” Helena said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as Myka’s teeth nibbled under her jawline. “I think it just might be you that does that to me,” she whispered, as Myka’s hand slipped smoothly inside her shirt and her fingernails scraped at Helena’s skin near her ribs.

 

Their lips met again and Helena turned in Myka’s arms, slipping her own arms smoothly around Myka’s neck and pulling her head down further so that she could lose her fingers in soft curls, to gain back some leverage and advantage in this. It was her turn, then, to kiss Myka’s jaw and neck and to bite sharply at her earlobe, relishing the gasp she drew from Myka as a result. Myka’s hand wended its way into Helena’s hair and she pulled, sharply, eliciting an echoing gasp from Helena before her mouth came down again and she once again kissed Helena urgently with teeth and tongue and lips. Myka’s leg, a little longer than Helena’s, was pressed ever so slightly between Helena’s, fitting just perfectly at the top of her thighs, and Helena was just leaning in, trying to gain some friction, when they were interrupted.

 

“Ahem,” came an incredibly unrealistic throat-clearing from behind them. It was Steve and Liam. Helena turned to face her friend, slightly embarrassed at being caught this way, necking like a teenager at a keg party.

 

“Helena, I think I’m going to go get some coffee with Liam. Are you guys okay if I make my way back to you later?” Steve said, with an emphasis on the ‘later’ that clearly meant ‘tomorrow’.

 

“Of course, darling,” she said with a slight smirk. He could hardly judge her for doing exactly the same as what he had planned. And at least she and Myka were married, however tenuous their bond might be. Her smirk broadened into a smug smile and he gave her a faux-dirty look that promised they would be talking about this tomorrow.

 

“Can we give you gentlemen a ride?” she asked. She turned to Myka and lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “I think we were just about to head home, weren’t we, my love?” she asked Myka, smiling slightly at the endearment which was of course for Liam’s benefit. He was not high enough on the campaign food chain to be clued in on their arrangement.

 

“Sure,” Steve said easily. Helena called her car service and a driver arrived quickly, dropping Liam and Steve off for ‘coffee’ at a block of apartments with no coffee shop in sight. As soon as Steve and Liam had closed the door behind them, Myka was upon Helena, her lips on Helena’s throat and her hand sliding up underneath her shirt to scratch and drag at the skin of Helena’s back.

 

Helena wasn’t normally one to cede control to anyone. Sexually speaking, that was not her typical modus operandi. She liked to be in control, and while that perhaps made things rather predictable in some ways, it certainly made them easier. She got what she wanted and she left. That had been how she had operated since Nate had broken her heart, and that was how she had planned to continue operating, when she thought about sex, about relationships, at all. She hadn’t planned, however, on Myka. Myka did not take Helena’s control away, however. What Myka did was much worse. She made Helena _want_ to give control to her, happily. Helena had never been handled like this, and she never thought she would want to be, but Myka, who had tipped her world upside down in so many ways already, was now doing it again. In the scrape of her teeth against Helena’s neck, she was saying “you are mine,” and as Helena tipped her head back, she was saying “yes, yes, I’m yours,” and she almost began saying it out loud after Myka bit down on her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Myka had claimed her, and that was before they had even left the town car.

 

When they arrived at the house, they stumbled to the door in a jumbled mass of limbs and lips and after a brief tussle with her jacket pocket, Helena freed the keys and they made their way inside.   

 

Stepping into their shared home, for some reason, stopped Helena in her tracks, and she began thinking, a process which was decidedly hampered by Myka grabbing her and almost slamming her bodily against the inside of the front door, before beginning an all-out assault on her body with teeth and lips, tongue and hands. Myka’s hands were cupping Helena’s buttocks and lifting slightly, eliciting an intense moan from Helena, but she could also feel her brain telling her to brake, to pull up. Myka was drunk. What if this was the worst idea? What if it destroyed their fairly easy-going relationship and made things hopelessly awkward between them?

 

“Myka,” she murmured weakly, and Myka responded only with a satisfied hum as she sucked on Helena’s collarbone, probably leaving the kind of mark behind that Helena hadn’t had since she was a teenager. “Myka,” she tried, again, and Myka squeezed her behind tighter, putting pressure in places that were not helping Helena think clearly.

 

“Myka, sweetheart, can we talk for a moment, please?” she said, and Myka’s head came up, her eyes meeting Helena’s, glazed over with lust and alcohol.

 

“What is it, Helena?” she asked, confused.

 

“Are you sure about this, Myka? You’re drunk, we’re both drunk. I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

 

“I don’t feel like that at all,” Myka said, looking bewildered. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much,” she murmured, and the way she looked at Helena – it was something too raw, too strong, too real. Helena couldn’t stand up in the face of that look and say no, or in fact anything at all. So she just leaned forward and kissed Myka, pulling Myka’s hands down to rest on her ass again, and they stayed where they were for a little while, kissing (and if Helena was quite honest about it, grinding against each other) before they made their way into their bed, naked and drunk and high on each other.

 

Myka took control, despite her professed lack of experience with women, and Helena told her later that she would never, ever believe that she didn’t know what she was doing, because Helena had never been so thoroughly cared for, so thoroughly and methodically brought to that kind of intensity by anyone, male or female. Myka was surrounding her, and Myka’s mouth was on her, all over her, and Myka was in her – she was intensely glad that they had no close neighbours because the noises she was making were so loud that she would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t been so incredibly lost in sensation. When she finally recovered, she determinedly set to making Myka feel the same way, and she was gratified when Myka’s cries were no less intense than her own had been. Whatever this was between them, the word attraction did not cover. Helena had truly lost herself in Myka, and Myka in Helena, in a way that Helena at least could say she’d never before experienced. As she lay in their marriage bed watching Myka’s soft smile slowly relax into the slackness of true deep sleep, her heart clenched and she swallowed against the lump developing in her throat. As Claudia would say, she was well and truly fucked now.

 

She woke in the morning in Myka’s arms, very much as she usually did, but on this particular morning they were both naked, the room smelled of sex, and so did they. It was, mercifully, the weekend, and while the campaign never slept, they didn’t have anything pressing to do that morning. Helena was lying on her back with Myka’s arm flung over her belly. Myka’s face was pressed into Helena’s hair, and her soft breath was tickling at Helena’s ear. She was still fast asleep. Helena didn’t know what to do. If it had been anyone else in bed with her, Helena would be sneaking out, calling a cab, throwing her one night stand out with nothing more than a nod and a goodbye. But this was Myka. This was her wife – her fake wife, yes, but her legal wife. With whom she had now consummated the marriage. Her _wife_.

 

She thought it was possible that she might start hyperventilating, so she began to take slow, deep breaths, and the movement of her abdomen must have disturbed Myka, because she, too, began to stir. Helena turned in her arms and watched as Myka’s eyes opened slowly, revealing the green and gold of her irises, glassy with tiredness.

 

“Hey,” Myka murmured, her lips turning up in a smile. She leaned forward straight away and kissed Helena, surprising her intensely. Helena had expected embarrassment, or at the very least an attempt to distance herself. But Myka was diving right in.

 

Myka was not stopping. Myka was kissing her, and Myka’s hands were beginning to move, and before Helena had truly registered what was happening they were consummating again enthusiastically, and she sincerely hoped that Steve wasn’t back yet because the night before had definitely not been a one-off in terms of Myka’s effect on her, nor in terms of her effect on Myka. The walls of the house were sturdy and well-built but they were not soundproof. When they finished together the first time Helena was assuming they would get up afterwards, make breakfast, have coffee. But Myka had other ideas and so too did Helena’s body, which meant that it was a long, long time before anyone was moving anywhere other than underneath the bedcovers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the morning after, a visit with Steve, and some unpleasantness.

* * *

 

Finally, an urgent beeping erupted from Helena’s phone, which she had lost with her jeans the night before, somewhere between the door and the bed. With a groan, she pulled herself from Myka’s arms and located the insistently ringing device.

 

“Morning!” Claudia said chirpily, and extra loudly, Helena would wager. “How are you on this fine sunny California day?”

 

Helena groaned slightly before answering.

 

“What is it, Claudia?” she asked, her voice unintentionally whiny.

 

Claudia chuckled.

 

“You suffering a little there, HG?” she asked, in a fake tone of concern. She was met by frosty silence from the other end of the phone, and hastily told Helena to turn on the television.

 

“Channel 6,” she said, and Helena located the remote and switched the bedroom’s television on to the required channel. She was greeted with both video and still photographs of her and Myka kissing passionately in the corridor of the restaurant and there were even a few that had clearly been taken at the club afterwards on cellphones.

 

“Who is this mysterious woman? Helena Wells is well-known for her one-night stands with models and actresses and it’s rare that she’s seen out in public more than once or twice with the same woman, but according to our sources, she has been seen with this woman several times over a period of several months. Could the democratic party’s pick for Governor of California finally have settled down?”

 

The report moved on from them to one of Walter Sykes’ proposed policies to deal with the “unacceptable level of immigration into our fair state,” and after hearing a few words of it, Helena turned it off in disgust.

 

“Well, it appears that our little public appearance did the trick,” Helena said conversationally to Claudia on the phone.

 

“Yes,” Claudia said, “and I’ve already had eight calls from different shows asking you to appear.”

 

“Good,” Helena said. “Is there anything you need from me right now, then?” she asked, and Claudia said no.

 

“Okay then, I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” Helena said, and hung up. She turned to find Myka watching her intently, and despite what they’d been doing with and to one another all night and all morning, she blushed at the intensity of Myka’s gaze.

 

“You’re beautiful,” she said, eyeing Helena in a leisurely, predatory fashion that made Helena’s breath halt for a long moment.

 

“I could say the same about you, Myka,” Helena said, to cover her loss of composure, and she moved to the bed, sitting next to Myka.

 

“I’m okay. I don’t look terrible. But you – you just got out of bed, Helena, and you have no makeup on, and we’ve been having sex all night and all morning but you look… you look incredible, like a goddess or something. If we have kids, they have to get your genes, because, seriously… wow,” she said, and something in Helena’s chest tightened, viciously and painfully this time. Children. She’d forgotten about that part of the plan. It would be time to talk about that soon. Thing were happening too fast, and Helena was going to screw this up, and Myka would leave and she would be here alone again, sitting in an empty room with no partner and an empty cradle.

 

“Hey,” Myka said softly, cupping Helena’s jaw and turning her so that she was meeting Myka’s eyes, “I know what happened to you, honey. Losing a child – I can’t imagine how much that devastated you. So if you don’t want any more kids, that’s okay by me. Deb can take that part of her plan and shove it. I won’t do anything that will hurt you, okay? So whatever just made you go rigid and your hands shake like that? Forget about it, Helena. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Helena stared at her. She wanted to believe Myka. She really did. But she had trusted Nate, and he had turned on her. He had left her behind with her empty house and the empty cradle where her baby had died.

 

“You can trust me, Helena,” Myka said, and Helena just nodded. She couldn’t quite trust herself to speak, so she allowed Myka to pull her close and stroke her hair and kiss her gently.

 

Steve rang not long after, and Myka took the call as Helena had lapsed into a distracted sort of silence. He was coming back and wanted the number of the car service, which Myka gave him.

 

“He’s coming home,” she said, after hanging up. “Do you feel like coming to join me in the shower?”

 

Helena nodded numbly and Myka led her to the bathroom, where they spent a pleasurable forty minutes or so that very effectively distracted her from her thoughts. They dressed and then Myka began to cook some breakfast – something with bacon, by the smell, and Helena settled herself on the sofa with a book for a while until Steve came home.

 

The doorbell rang and Helena went to open it, finding a tired but happy looking Steve at the door. He went to change, since he was still in his clothes from the night before, and they enjoyed a breakfast together of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast. After their late breakfast Myka excused herself to go and call her mother, as was her habit on weekends, so Helena and Steve loaded the dishwasher together in silence, and then sat at the table to drink coffee and look out at the view.

 

“So, you and Myka, huh?” he asked, blowing to cool the surface of the coffee and looking out at the trees, his serenity almost palpable.

 

“You’re really going to tease me about this after spending the night with Liam?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“No. I’m not teasing. I’m asking. You two slept together – was it the first time?” he asked, his face open and caring.

 

“Yes,” she said, shortly.

 

“And?” he asked.

 

“And what?” she asked irritably.

 

“And what does that mean, Helena? You slept with her and you haven’t got an out, here. I have never known you to sleep with anyone if you have any sort of link with them. So what is it about her?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“I…I don’t know, Steve. She… you remember what happened with the homeless shelter?” At his nod, she continued. “She made me dinner that night, and I came in from the pool. She had pasta sauce on her face, and I just looked at her, Steve, and I knew. I knew that I loved her. I realised how truly, truly fucked I am. Because she’s so caring, she’s beautiful, she’s wonderful. She named the shelter after Christina, and she got Wolly involved, and you should see him, Steve – he’s like a new man. I just don’t know how… I can’t, not after Nate.”

 

He took her hand.

 

“Myka is not Nate, Helena. You know, you both were in the worst situation any parent can imagine – you lost your child. I’m not excusing him, but those were pretty extreme circumstances. He was an asshole, and I know that without ever spending a minute with him, because he gave you up, Helena. You deserved better, and I am so sorry that he hurt you. But she’s something else, Helena. She’s amazing. She is a good, caring person and I don’t see her leaving you, not now she’s made the commitment. I don’t know her well, but the way she looks at you – it looks a lot like love, Helena. Does she seem like the kind of person who would sleep with you just for kicks?”

 

She shook her head slowly, considering.

 

“Well, there you go. Last night meant something, to both of you. Just don’t run away, Helena. This might be – she might be – exactly what you need.”

 

She nodded and he squeezed her hand. Myka returned to the living area and after a short discussion, they decided to go for a day of sightseeing. Steve hadn’t been to LA for any length of time, so they played tourist for the day. Helena noticed that there were a number of photographers following them as they went from the walk of fame to Universal Studios, and she spotted them several times later in the day too. She and Myka were inclined, after their night together, to touch one another and indulge in what Claudia called “PDA” anyway, so any pictures the paparazzi got would only help their case. Helena decided to ignore them and left them to their work.

 

That night they ate in, watching several crappy rom coms and eating huge amounts of popcorn between them. To Helena’s relief and delight, both Myka and Steve seemed to like one another immensely. By the end of the evening they were acting like old friends, and it lightened Helena’s heart to see.

 

“He’s a really sweet guy,” Myka said to Helena conversationally as they were getting ready for bed. Modesty had been abandoned and Myka was stripping in front of Helena, smiling a little as she searched out some clean pyjamas while clad in nothing but a smile.

 

“He is,” Helena murmured. “He saved my life, after Nate left. I don’t know if I’d be here without him.”

 

Myka turned and looked at Helena searchingly.

 

“Do you mean that? Literally?”

 

Helena shrugged slightly, not quite meeting Myka’s eyes. Myka dressed quickly in her pyjamas and closed the distance between them, putting her hands on Helena’s shoulders.

 

“You are not alone, Helena. Whether Steve is here or he’s not, whether you and I are sleeping together or not – you are not alone. So you never have to feel that way. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Helena looked at Myka’s open, sincere face and she nodded, once.

 

“Thank you,” was all she said.

 

They slept in each other’s arms, but nothing more happened between them that night. The following morning, Steve was flying back to the East Coast, so they dropped him at the airport and went to a nearby diner to eat.

 

Myka noticed that there were some of the paparazzi outside and, when they were making their order, she asked the waitress if she could deliver some coffees to the photographers and ask them if they wanted some food. After the waitress had left, Helena asked her why.

 

“Well, they didn’t ask to do this job, Helena. They are being told who the high-profile targets are, and right now we’re hot because we’re this lesbian couple or whatever they think, and I tamed the wild HG Wells and all that. They don’t want to be photographing us any more than we want to be photographed, so why not be nice?”

 

Helena smiled and shook her head, and watched as the slightly perplexed waitress went outside to deliver coffee in paper cups to the group of men and women, who smiled and gave Myka and Helena the thumbs up shortly afterwards.

 

“You really are a marvel, Myka Bering,” Helena said, wonderingly. “You really are exactly what you seem – a decent human being, and you’re here with me following your conscience. I don’t think I ever imagined meeting someone like you.”

 

Myka flashed her a bright smile, and Helena reached over and took her hand, running her thumbs over Myka’s knuckles. Just then, their food was delivered, and they began to eat, occasionally smiling at one another. Their hands touched a few times when they were picking up their coffee cups or reaching for butter or maple syrup, and their touches lingered. Helena felt like she couldn’t not touch Myka. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, her heart, her mind, had fallen in love with Myka Bering, and it appeared that was that.

 

They were halfway through their meal when Myka decided to come and sit on Helena’s side of the booth, bringing her plate with her and smiling playfully the whole time. They tangled their fingers together and carried on eating, and Helena couldn’t have stopped smiling if she’d tried. Myka impulsively leaned over and kissed her, a chaste peck. Neither of them expected what came after.

 

“Right, that’s it. I don’t have to put up with that kind of thing in my own place!”

 

A small, thin woman with puckered lips and dried out skin was shouting at them. Helena turned and stared, as did Myka, as the woman advanced on them.

 

“You two are indecent! You should be ashamed of yourselves, doing that sort of thing where other people can see.”

 

To Helena’s astonishment, Myka stood up and, unintentionally towering over the ancient woman, asked, “Doing what sort of thing, exactly?”

 

The woman gaped at her for a moment, and then recovered.

 

“I saw you kissing. You’re disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Homosexuality is the path to hell,” she spat, glaring at them. “You need to leave. And don’t come back here. This is a family place.”

 

People were staring, and Helena was both humiliated and angry. But Myka, it appeared, was simply angry.

 

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but did you just call me disgusting because I gave my wife a peck on the lips in public? I don’t know what year you think this is, but this is 2016, and this is America. I’m not ashamed at all, because this is the woman I love and all I did was kiss her. If you think that’s disgusting, I feel sorry for you. Are you the owner of this place?” Myka demanded, not aggressively, but assertively. Helena noted distantly that the paparazzi outside were taking numerous pictures of Myka talking to the old woman.

 

“Yes, I’m the owner,” the old woman said, and at that point a large fat man joined her, gesticulating with some sort of cooking paraphernalia in a vaguely threatening way.

 

“Good. What’s your name, please, Ma’am?” Myka asked. “I’m going to need it for the lawsuit.”

 

The woman blanched for a moment, but identified herself as Mrs Edna Waller, and Myka made a great show of writing it down in a notebook she kept in her pocket.

 

“Thank you, Mrs Waller. I can assure you that you’ll be hearing from our lawyers,” Myka said, nodding politely at everyone in the diner, who by that stage had given up all pretence of eating and were simply watching the scene play out.

 

“Come on, honey. We don’t need to stay where we’re not welcome,” Myka said, taking Helena’s hand and leading her out of the Diner and into what felt like a sea of camera flashes.

 

“Candidate Wells, can you tell us what happened in there?” one of the paparazzi asked, holding out a small tape recorder.

 

“I think you had better ask my wife,” Helena answered bemusedly, indicating Myka with a smile.

 

The shouting of questions rose to a roar. Myka held up her hands.

 

“Guys, I’m happy to answer your questions, but I think you should call your networks, first. This might be something worth getting on camera.”

 

For some reason, they responded to Myka’s tone, and most of them disappeared to make telephone calls. Helena and Myka stood there, holding hands in silence, until news vans began appearing, along with one very pissed-off Claudia Donovan.

 

“HG? What the hell is going on? And why the hell did I hear this from a reporter at channel 2?” She stopped in her tracks as she took in the strain on Helena’s face and the anger on Myka’s. “What happened, you guys?”

 

Myka filled her in, in a low voice, gesturing at the diner behind them where Mrs Waller stood with her plump chef, sending evil looks at them all.

 

“Oh my God. They threw you out for kissing?”

 

“It was a peck, Claudia. Not even a second long. I’ve kissed my grandmother for longer than that,” Myka said, her face set.

 

“Okay, Myka. So what’s the game plan, here?” Claudia asked.

 

“Well, you wanted us to go on TV, and to come out as a married couple and all that? So why not do it now, and bring this up while we’re at it? Because this is not okay, Claudia. I’m not okay with being treated like that. I’m not okay with Helena being treated like that, nor am I okay with anyone in this State being treated that way. So let’s make it part of our campaign.”

 

Claudia looked at her thoughtfully, and then at Helena.

 

“You okay with this, HG?”

 

Helena nodded. She didn’t have the heart to say a thing. That these people had treated them this way for loving one another – it was enough to make her want to burn the bloody place to the ground. If Myka hadn’t been there, she didn’t know what she would have said or done. She was shaking with rage and humiliation.

 

“Okay, Myka. This is your party. HG, don’t forget to chime in from time to time, and try to relax but look grave and concerned. Right now you look like you could happily shoot those guys in the face,” Claudia said, in a low voice, as the reporters were setting up cameras nearby.

 

A number of reporters came forward, and Claudia held her hands up to get their attention.

 

“This is gubernatorial candidate Helena Wells and her wife, Myka Bering-Wells. They have a statement to make concerning their visit this afternoon to the diner behind us. Please hold your questions until after they have made their statement, okay?”

 

The reporters nodded, holding out Dictaphones, and cameras, both video and still, were trained on Helena and Myka.

 

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Myka began. “My name is Myka Bering-Wells, and I’m lucky enough to be married to the incredibly beautiful woman standing next to me,” she said with a smile. A few of the reporters chuckled and a number of the paparazzi gave her a thumbs up or a smile.

 

“Today Helena and I decided to get some lunch after dropping a friend at the airport, and we decided to stop at this small diner. We were served with decent food and coffee. Helena and I were talking and she said something sweet, which I will keep to myself if you all don’t mind,” she said with a grin, drawing yet more laughter and smiles from the crowd. “I decided to give Helena a kiss. A small peck, like this,” she said, demonstrating, making Helena smile and the assembled crowd laugh again. Now, however, Myka sobered. “Unfortunately the owner of the diner decided that our behaviour was disgusting and indecent, and we were told to leave. We were told that homosexuality is the path to hell. Now, in my younger days I might have sneaked out quietly and cried in private. But today I am a proud woman. I am married to this wonderful woman beside me, and I feel – we both feel – that it is our civic duty to bring incidents like this into the light.”

 

She stopped speaking and nodded at Helena, clearly encouraging her to speak. Helena took a deep breath before speaking. She was no longer shaking and angry; she was calm and focused, strengthened by Myka’s words.

 

“Ladies and gentleman, as you can probably tell,” Helena began, “my wife is a formidable woman.” There were more chuckles and a slight cheer from some of the paparazzi; clearly they hadn’t forgotten Myka’s kindness. “She and I married because we love one another. And yet here we find that people still oppose our freedom to live our lives as we see fit; a principle that this fine country was founded upon. I am hurt and I am embarrassed because this woman has clearly said to me, to us, today – you are not equal. You are not part of my country. Your freedom to exist matters less than my freedom to be offended. I am incensed because this may have happened here before. It may be happening all over this state, all over this country. We know that suicide rates among LGBT youth are soaring, and incidents like this are certainly not helping. This cannot be allowed to continue. Equality is central to my campaign. Equality for women, people of colour, the LGBT community – anyone who is oppressed, told they are less. This is not the American way. We are the land of opportunity. People from all over the world move here in search of the American dream. And people like the woman in the diner behind me are taking that principle and destroying it. Here’s what I want to say. If you wish to hold those opinions, I will defend your right to hold them and to express them. The right to freedom of speech is also enshrined in our constitution. But if you offer a service for payment, you cannot turn people away because you decide that they do not fit with your personal beliefs in some way. People have the right to walk into a diner, a shoe store, a cinema, and not have to worry that they will be turned away because of the colour of their skin, their sexual orientation, or anything else that has no bearing on the transaction at hand. No-one should have to feel the way I do today – the way Myka and I do today,” she said, turning to Myka and taking her hand, “just because someone else disagrees with the right of a couple to show their affection in public. Thank you all for coming,” she said, nodding gravely at the members of the press.

 

There were numerous questions afterwards about their marriage, how long they’d known one another, and many questions about the incident in the diner, including the inevitable, “Will you sue?” They replied to the latter question in the affirmative, since they believed they owed it to those who could not afford to take that sort of action. They confirmed that they would donate any winnings from the legal action to an appropriate charity.  The press who were present were supportive and it was clear that they had warmed to Myka in particular. Helena, Myka and Claudia took their bows and left in Claudia’s car – she insisted on driving as she thought they both looked too shaken. She dropped them at home after admonishing them to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, and assured them that she’d arrange to have their car dropped off later.

 

They flopped on the sofa and Helena put her head back and closed her eyes for a long moment.

 

“You okay, Helena?” Myka asked quietly.

 

“Yes, of course,” she said.

 

“Forgive me, my dear wife, but that’s bullshit. Talk to me, please?” she asked, taking Helena’s hand and massaging the palm with her thumb.

 

“I… I’m hurt. I’m upset. I wanted to – those people, Myka. They don’t deserve to run a business. Imagine if that was a teenaged gay couple? That could have destroyed them, Myka. It’s not okay. It’s not bloody fair.”

 

“I know, baby,” Myka said, stroking Helena’s hand soothingly. “That’s why we called the press. Maybe they’ll think twice about doing something like that again. If you’re elected, you’ll be able to make a difference to equality laws. You’re doing what you can, Helena, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

 

Helena turned to look at Myka, and it was clear that she was being entirely sincere, as usual. Helena’s heart thumped and she gave in to the desire she felt, pulling Myka to her and kissing her. It wasn’t as frantic as their kissing and touching in the club and afterwards, but it was intense and hot and somehow incredibly beautiful. Helena wasn’t sure what Myka was feeling, but she knew that her own feelings, which were already incredibly strong, were only deepening with each kiss or touch. Myka was looking at Helena in a way that she couldn’t interpret, and she moved to straddle Helena on the sofa, grasping her by the hair, pulling her head back and kissing her, deep and slow and delving. Helena felt like she was drunk, high on Myka, high on these feelings, and she dove in to the feeling, embracing it. Myka was moving in her lap in a way that was clearly unintentional, but it made her needs clear and Helena suggested, breathlessly, “Bedroom?” At Myka’s nod, she stood, lifting Myka and setting her on their feet. They made their way to their bedroom, colliding with walls and doorjambs as they did so, and when they reached the bed the sex was slow and intentional and _different_. Helena couldn’t have articulated the difference, but when they both came together with a strangled cry, she distinctly felt her heart swell with the love she didn’t want but couldn’t avoid, and she saw something answering in Myka’s gaze. She could only hope that she hadn’t said the words anyway, watching Myka rise and fall with her, because Myka was so beautiful, sweat glistening all over her body, her head on Helena’s chest, that she would not have been at all surprised to find that she had been chanting it over and over again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So things have been fairly fluffy up until now. As those of you who have read any of my other stuff will attest, fluff only lasts so long. I started writing this fic at the beginning of 2016, including this part. I want to warn you all that there is a shooting incident in this chapter, and that I honestly had no idea that something like Orlando was going to happen in real life. I have thought a lot about re-writing it, and having something else happen here, but the central thread would remain – homophobia, and the things that people are willing to do when they become fanatics. Anyway. This might be a tough read, but I promise you that M&H will make it through this. Please don’t read if you think you’ll find it too upsetting.
> 
>  

* * *

 

The days went by after that in a strange rhythm. During the day Myka and Helena pretended to be in love. All the while, of course, Helena was painfully aware of the fact that she _was_ in love with Myka, and also aware that she had no idea how Myka felt about her. When they returned home from the campaign offices or whatever appearance they had made on a television show or in a town hall meeting, they ate and swam and had sex, or perhaps made love, Helena being quite unable to tell the difference by now – sometimes mixing the latter two activities together, since the pool was private and surrounded by tall trees screening them from view.

 

The campaign was beginning to take up nearly all of their time, and their leisure time, such as it was, was now in the hours after the sun had set. Soon they wouldn’t even have that time, Helena knew, so she determined to enjoy the time for what it was, and to try not to examine what she and Myka were doing too closely. She knew what she _wanted_ them to be doing, but she also feared it so much that she was almost unable to even examine the idea.

 

The day that the shelter opened was one of the most emotional days of Helena’s life. Not only had Myka done this incredible thing with the money she could have used to buy herself anything she had ever wanted, she had involved Wolly, who had been designated director of the shelter, a much better paying job than his previous one. By involving Wolly, she had provided him with an opportunity to give back to the community here where he had previously lived as a homeless man. He had relied on the charity of strangers and it was in this neighbourhood that he had found his home. Helena didn’t have to hear him say it to know how much this meant to him. It meant a tremendous amount to Helena for that reason, among many others. Because no matter what she’d done for Wolly – cleaned him up, fed him, gave him a home – she had never quite managed to give him a reason to get up in the morning. Kelly had helped with that, as had getting a job of his own, but he had never exhibited any sort of sense of purpose before, and now he was alight with it. By naming the shelter after Helena’s daughter, the daughter whose loss she had never been able to get over, Myka had touched Helena’s heart in a way that no-one had ever managed before, because Myka truly understood what the loss of Christina had done to Helena.

 

Perhaps the most visible effect of the announcement of the opening of the homeless shelter was the effect it had on their campaign – it not only galvanised their supporters but it increased Helena’s polling numbers exponentially, passing Walter Sykes’ for the first time since the beginning of the campaign. That wasn’t Helena’s concern on the day, however. She was staggered by the magnitude of the change the shelter had already wrought upon the neighbourhood where she’d begun her legal career so long ago. There were people from every business in the area in attendance, giving away free items to the homeless – clothing, food, water, hygiene items. It was a community working together, and it made Helena think, for once, that the world could be better than it was. That humans could be better than they had been, better than what they’d done to this world. She was glad that there was only one week of campaigning left before the election – she was running out of energy to fight Walter Sykes’ campaign of accusations and half-truths.

 

Myka was speaking to Wolly and Kelly by the entrance to the shelter. Wolly was smiling unguardedly at whatever Myka was saying – he began laughing, his head thrown back. Helena was so entranced by the sight of the previously closed-off Wolly laughing so freely that the sound of the first gunshot didn’t even register in her consciousness until she saw the blossom of red on Kelly’s lower abdomen. Kelly was wearing a white shirt, and Helena’s first thought was, absurdly, that Kelly should have known better than to wear white if she was going to be drinking red wine. But then sense returned and she remembered that it was 9.30 in the morning and that there was no alcohol at the shelter, for obvious reasons. Her legs started moving, however, when she saw Wolly react, pushing both Kelly and Myka to the ground and himself on top. He wasn’t quick enough, however, because as he did so, Helena saw the bullet hit Myka in the chest, a small puff of pink mist blooming in the air in front of her. It was as if the world stopped and froze at that moment, and Helena didn’t know if she’d ever truly leave here, this moment. The feeling was the same one that had held her motionless years ago in front of a cradle in a different part of this very city. After that she recalled trying to get to Myka, but there were still shots ringing out, and she was brought to the ground with several heavy bodies on top of her. They dragged her to shelter behind a wall and held her there, and no amount of struggling or cursing could free her. It took almost 10 minutes for the LAPD to confirm that the shooter had escaped, killing several police personnel as he did so. Helena was released by her security men only to find that Myka and Kelly and the other casualties had already been taken to hospital or to the morgue. Claudia, thankfully, was unharmed, and after taking one look at Helena she summoned a car and more security as if from nowhere. She and Liam accompanied Helena to the hospital, reassuring Helena all the way, but she heard none of it.

 

“Mrs Wells, she’s been very badly injured. The bullet hit her directly in the chest and did damage to both her heart and her left lung. We have one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the world here, and she is working on your wife right now. I will come back when I have more news,” the too-young doctor said gravely, re-tying her surgical mask and returning to wherever she’d come from. Helena sat down heavily, the fight having gone out of her completely.

 

A coffee was pressed into her hand, and Liam gently put his arm around her.

 

“Steve is on his way, Helena,” he murmured, patting her on the back awkwardly. For some reason, his awkward attempt at comfort was what started her crying silently. She didn’t even know the boy, and he was trying to make her feel better because he knew Steve loved her. She turned and hid her face in his shoulder, and he hugged her closer as she cried in silence.

 

A while later – an hour or a week, Helena wasn’t sure – she became aware of a silent presence to her left, and she sat up and wiped her face. Wolly was sitting there, blood splattered all over his shirt and hands, wearing the same thousand-yard stare he’d worn when they first met.

 

“Wolly?” she asked, her heart sinking. She hadn’t even had the sense to ask about Kelly when the surgeon had spoken to her.

 

“She’s alive,” he said, in a dead voice. “She’s alive but she’ll never have children. She was pregnant.”

 

Helena didn’t know what to say. She took his hand in hers and they sat in deathly silence. Helena closed her eyes and images of Myka filled her mind – Myka smiling and laughing, Myka sleeping on the sofa with her hair plastered to her face, Myka looking into Helena’s eyes as she came. Helena couldn’t stop the cascade and didn’t want to, because she might never see any of those things again, and she couldn’t bear the thought, so she watched the movie in her brain, tears leaking from behind her closed eyelids.

 

The surgeon or intern or whatever she was came back twice more during the eight hours that Myka was in surgery. She had only brief updates - that there was more damage and they were doing this or that procedure to repair it – but the fact that Myka was still alive was heartening, at least. She returned afterwards with the surgeon who’d actually performed the surgery. At one point or another during the interminable surgery, Claudia had confirmed that the surgeon was one of the best in the field, and it had made Helena feel marginally better, at least until Wolly had turned his empty eyes on her once again.

 

After more than eight hours of surgery, the attending surgeon came to see them.

 

“She’s still alive, Mrs Wells,” the surgeon began, but Helena interrupted, more loudly than she’d intended.

 

“Bering-Wells,” she said sharply.

 

“Of course,” the surgeon said, carefully. “Mrs Bering-Wells. Your wife is still alive, and the damage has been repaired. You were both quite lucky that I was here,” she said, and Helena gave her a look of complete disbelief. Lucky?

 

“I apologise,” the surgeon said hastily. “I just mean that the damage your wife sustained would have been difficult for another surgeon to repair. In any case, I have repaired the damage, but she isn’t out of the woods yet. There are a number of possible complications that could occur, and to be honest we can’t even be certain at this point that she will wake up from the anaesthetic. The damage was severe. I have every hope that she will be fine, however, Mrs Bering-Wells. She is young and fit and strong so there’s no reason for her not to get through this. Would you like to see her?”

 

Helena replied in the affirmative, and the surgeon led them to a private room. Myka was dwarfed by the machinery around her. There were tubes coming out of at least 4 different places, including one allowing her to breathe, which the surgeon assured Helena would be coming out in the next few days. The surgeon and her lackeys left them with one nurse who was fussing with IVs and pressing buttons. Helena ignored her, and sat next to Myka, taking her hand carefully, to avoid disturbing the IV. Myka looked so small, so pale, that she was almost unrecognisable. She was always moving, always full of life and ideas and thoughts, and seeing her so still and pale was a horrible throwback to a morning Helena would do anything to forget – the morning she had found Christina still and cold in her cot. Helena shivered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly.

 

“She’ll be okay, Helena,” Steve said, from behind her. He must have just arrived, and Helena was grateful, but offered him only a wan smile before turning her eyes back on Myka. She couldn’t – wouldn’t leave her alone.

 

“I called your dad and Charles, Helena. They’re on their way,” Steve said, quietly. He took her hand in his and asked her to look at him. She turned her head again for a moment.

 

“You need to eat something, Helena. It’s been over 9 hours since the shooting. You need to eat or you’re going to end up in the next bed, babe. Will you eat something for me?” he asked gently.

 

She nodded reluctantly, and he produced a sandwich that she had to force down her throat, eating with one hand so she didn’t have to let go of Myka. She drank some water too before turning her attention back on Myka, stroking her thumb gently across Myka’s knuckles.

 

“Helena,” Claudia’s voice interrupted. Helena was incensed. She’d only just eaten something, why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

 

She turned to find that Steve and Liam were gone, as was Wolly. Her father and Charles were asleep in the other chairs, and Amanda was standing near the door holding a paper cup that presumably held coffee. Helena had no idea when her father and Charles had arrived. Her confusion must have shown on her face because Claudia said, more gently this time, “Helena? I need you to come with me for a while. Half an hour, tops.”

 

Helena was already shaking her head. She wouldn’t leave Myka alone. Christina had died alone; that could not happen to Myka.

 

“Helena, look at me,” Claudia demanded. Helena turned her head, looking at Claudia, her eyes dull.

 

“The press are outside, Helena. You need to go make a statement. To tell them what happened. For the campaign. You know that Myka would want you to do that, Helena,” she said, her voice becoming more gentle as she went on. Helena closed her eyes, narrowly resisting the urge to slap Claudia, Claudia who was her friend.

 

“I’ll stay with her, Helena. We’ll be here with her, me and Charlie and your dad. She won’t be alone,” Amanda said, softly, and Helena opened her eyes to look into Amanda’s almond-shaped blue ones. They were filled with sincerity and Helena nodded, standing slowly and leaning over to kiss Myka’s forehead once.

 

“I’ll be back soon, love,” she said, softly, and she distinctly heard Amanda swallow a sob. She left the room before she could begin crying again.

 

“What do you want me to say, Claudia?” she asked. Her heart was no longer in this race for Governor. It was not worth it if it meant being without Myka.

 

“Just speak from the heart, Helena,” Claudia said, and Helena just nodded wearily.

 

They reached the reception area of the hospital, where they were besieged by reporters, cameramen and some of the paparazzi that had been following them around for months. Helena noted that several of the latter nodded at her gravely as she stood in front of them, waiting for a question.

 

“Candidate Wells, can you tell us what happened today?” asked one young reporter, a blonde man who reminded her far too much of Walter Sykes for her liking.

 

“Certainly,” she said, dully. “My wife and I were attending the opening of the Christina Wells homeless shelter when we were fired upon by an unknown assailant. Myka was struck by a bullet in the chest and our good friend Kelly Wolcott was also injured. Kelly is awake and alive after surgery. Myka is still alive following eight hours in surgery, but her prognosis is unsure at this time. I am told that several others were murdered in this attack, including several brave policemen, two members of my own security team, and a homeless woman who was simply looking for somewhere to sleep. I am deeply sorry that others were caught up in this attack that it appears was aimed at me.” As she said that, however, her mind suddenly began racing. The shooting – the shots – had come nowhere near her. The shooter, whoever he or she was, had been a very good shot. This had not been aimed at Helena at all. Given the position of those who had been killed and injured, it was likely that either Myka or Wolly was the target. Helena was asked several more questions, which she answered, but then she returned to Myka’s room, leaving Claudia to deal with the press. When she got to Myka’s room, she asked Amanda to find Wolly for her. Amanda looked at her, a little startled, but did as she was asked. A few minutes later he appeared, and Helena left Myka with Amanda once again for a few moments while she talked with him in the corridor outside.

 

“Wolly. I wasn’t the target, was I?” she asked, and his eyes narrowed. He had been, in his former life, a member of the SAS, the UK’s most elite military organisation. He thought for a moment and nodded.

 

“Myka,” was all he said. He would have known if he or Kelly had been involved in something that would have ended in this kind of violence.

 

“But why?” she asked, talking to herself as much as him.

 

“The interview about the diner,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “She made herself into a representative for the LGBT community. A target,” he murmured, gravely.

 

“Why would someone do that?” Helena wondered aloud. “Why would someone do that? Because she said we should be equal? What the fuck is wrong with people, Wolly?”

 

“This is not ‘just people’, Helena. ‘Just people’ would mean a hunting rifle or a handgun from Walmart. This was a high-powered weapon with hand-made bullets. I’ve seen that sort of damage before in the field, from army snipers. So whoever they were, they were hired or they are a true believer of some religion or another.”

 

She stared at him.

 

“Can you find out who did this, Wolly?” she asked, finally. She knew what she was asking of him. He had been a killer for a long time, and it had almost fractured him entirely. He was still recovering, and to go back to it might mean losing himself. But he nodded, his face set, because they had hurt his wife, killed his baby. And because he knew that they had almost killed her wife. She asked him, knowing that she might destroy them, because the incandescent rage that was filling her had to go somewhere, and that rage was going to find those who had hurt Myka and make them pay for it.

 

She returned to Myka’s room, holding her hand and enduring as Warren Bering came with his wife, a delicate, tiny woman who didn’t speak very much. She just cried. Helena had spoken to Jeannie Bering on the phone but this was the first time they had met. Helena didn’t have anything to offer the woman, however, apart from a nod. Warren had given Helena a look of pure hatred when he entered the room, which she had ignored as entirely unimportant. The only thing that mattered now was Myka’s pulse under her fingers, and she would not let go until Myka was awake again.

 

Warren and his wife left an hour later, and Helena must have fallen asleep, because she woke when a hand pushed her hair away from her face. She couldn’t remember where she was, and she had the most incredible pain in her neck from sleeping in such an odd position, slumped forward with her head and upper body on Myka’s bed. As she sat up, however, she could see her father sitting next to her, wiping her face with a handkerchief.

 

“Good morning, my little Hell’s Bells,” he said, gently. She stared at him for a moment before remembering where she was. She shot bolt upright and found the room in much the same state as when she’d fallen asleep. Charlie was still asleep in one of the other chairs. Amanda was talking to Claudia outside in a low voice, and Steve and Liam were asleep in the corridor, Liam’s head on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“How is she?” she asked, and her dad just shrugged slightly.

 

“No real change, sweetheart. She’s doing fine, but she’s not awake yet, as you can see. They are going to try taking the breathing tube out today, they said when they checked on her first thing. They seem confident. I think she’s going to be okay, my darling,” he said, hugging her close for a moment. She wanted to believe him, she really did.

 

Just at that moment there was a flash of light. She put her hand up to her face, confused and blinded.

 

“Candidate Wells, what do you have to say to Walter Sykes? He said this morning that your wife being shot was her own fault for the godless things she’s been saying,” the reporter managed before Steve and Liam dragged him away with twin roars of rage. Helena’s mind went as blank as her vision for a moment, and she found herself struggling in her father’s arms, trying to get away, trying to get to Walter Sykes and tear his throat out with her teeth. Her father wouldn’t let her go, however, and he held her and whispered in her ear that Myka needed her and she had to stay here, and she eventually calmed down enough to collapse, crying, in his arms.

 

It was several hours later that the lead surgeon came back to the room and removed the tube that was helping Myka to breathe. They all held their breath for a long moment until it became clear that Myka was still breathing, holding her own against the horrific injuries inflicted on her.

 

Wolly came back later that day, a haunted look in his eyes as he met Helena’s.

 

“I’m getting closer,” was all he would say before he went to check on Kelly. Helena felt incredible fury lash through her again and she closed her eyes, her hand tightening on Myka’s.

 

“Helena?”

 

She kept her eyes closed for a long moment. It wasn’t possible, was it? If she opened her eyes, would it be a hallucination?

 

“Helena, baby. What happened?”

 

It was Myka. She was awake. Helena opened her eyes and Myka was looking at her, her eyes confused but still bright and beautiful.

 

“Myka,” she croaked, holding on to Myka’s hand for dear life. She couldn’t get any more words out, so Myka held out her other hand in a clear invitation. Helena crawled into the bed with her, and Myka settled with one arm around Helena, careful not to snag the tubes coming from her veins, and the other on Helena’s abdomen, tracing small circles as Helena wept into her neck.

 

“I thought I’d lost you, Myka,” Helena finally rasped.

 

“I’m sorry, honey. But I’m here now and I still don’t know what happened. Could you tell me?” Myka asked, thoroughly bemused.

 

“You were shot. At the opening of the shelter. I don’t know who did it. Kelly was shot, and she was pregnant, Myka. She lost her baby. And six other people were killed.”

 

“Oh my God, Helena. That’s awful,” Myka said, her free hand going to cover her mouth. “Is Wolly okay?”

 

“He’s out looking for the people who did this,” Helena said, her nostrils flaring and her jaw tight. Myka sat up abruptly, almost pushing Helena off the bed.

 

“What? You let him do that? You know what he was, Helena!” Myka began, shouting and then leaning back, her hand on her chest as she winced in pain.

 

“I asked him to do it, Myka. They were trying to kill you,” Helena said stubbornly, pulling away from Myka’s arms. She sat up, and was stunned when Myka grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the bed.

 

“You call him right now, Helena Wells, and you get him back here. He should be with his family, not out looking for vengeance. Finding out who did this – that’s the police’s job, Helena. Not his. And not yours. You promised me, Helena, that you’d let me be your tether. So you better do this right now or I will divorce you tomorrow, do you understand me?” Her teeth were gritted and Helena stared at her, astonished. Myka glared at her and she could only nod, moving slowly to find her phone and calling Wolly, telling him to come back to the hospital. His reply sounded relieved, and Helena was suddenly stricken with guilt. How could she have thought this was okay? That Myka would be okay with the idea of Helena sending Wolly, of all people, to try to find the people who did this? Because they both knew what he was before, and that doing this – going back to that place in his mind, would hurt him.

 

She sat back on the edge of the bed heavily, and after a moment felt Myka’s hand on her back.

 

“It’s okay, honey. I know this must be like hell for you. But I’m going to be okay. And even if I’m not okay, Helena, you have a family that loves you, and friends, and things to live for. So you get yourself together, sweetie. You need to be strong for me, for all of them. For all the people in this State that you’re going to be representing.”

 

Helena turned to her, and Myka smiled.

 

“You can do this, Helena Bering-Wells. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

 

Helena nodded dumbly, and Myka lifted her arm again in invitation. They lay together in silence for some time, before a nurse came in and shooed Helena out, scolding her for not informing the staff that Myka had woken up. After an hour or so of medical fussing and tests and the like, Helena was allowed back in the room to find that Myka had fallen asleep with the strain of the injury and the medical tests.  She sat next to her wife and took her hand, and just as she had sat down, Wolly came in to ask why she’d called him back.

 

“Sit down, William,” she said, gravely. “I… I need you to understand, that I was lost, that I was so frightened of losing her… I should never have asked you to do anything. I should never have asked you to look into this. Please tell me that you didn’t get anywhere.”

 

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes less blank than they were earlier.

 

“I didn’t get far. And no-one is permanently damaged. Well, not too much, anyway. I found out who did it,” he said, expressionless.

 

“Is there any way you can give that information to the police without incriminating yourself?”

 

He nodded. “None of them saw my face or heard my voice.”

 

“Good,” she said, nodding at him. “I’m so sorry I asked you to do this, Will. I’m so sorry.”

 

He leaned closer and she put her arm round him as he rocked slightly.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, over and over, as she stroked his hair.

 

Later that day, with Amanda and Steve and Liam staying with Myka, Helena visited Kelly’s room, which was on a different floor, and cried with her over the loss of her child. She had been through it and she knew that she should have come here before, because Kelly needed the release of speaking to someone who had been through that same pain. They held each other and wept, and Helena felt something in her rip open again at the loss of her own daughter.

 

“Whoever they are, Helena, they will pay for this,” Kelly said, stroking Helena’s hair as they held each other. “They will pay. It will come back on them, some way or another.”

 

Helena nodded and they wiped their faces, talking for a short time until Claudia came to get Helena.

 

“It’s time to talk to the press again, HG. Can you do it?” she asked, her voice still gentle but with steel in it. They both knew that Helena had to do this. She nodded, and Claudia accompanied her back to the foyer, where she encountered the press again.

 

The questions were more gentle than she would have expected. She told them that Myka had woken, and that she was expected to make a full recovery. With Kelly’s permission, she also told them about the loss of her baby, and she could not help but shed a few angry tears at the loss. She was glad, despite wanting to kill the reporter who had made his way to Myka’s room, that she had warning for the questions about Walter Sykes’ words.

 

“I understand that Mr Sykes has been very vocal about what happened to my wife, and that he believes that this attack was somehow her fault, or perhaps mine, for our godless behaviour or words. To Mr Sykes I can only say this: I pity you, sir. I love my wife with all my heart. If he believes that by loving one another Myka and I are evil, then I pity him. Myka Bering-Wells has brought only joy and good things to my life.”

 

Some of the reporters gave her a short round of applause, and she was handed a bunch of flowers by one of the paparazzi for whom Myka had bought coffee the day of the Diner disaster. He whispered in her ear, “She did it all the time, you know. Bought us coffee or pastries or dinner a couple of times. She’s awesome, and we’re so glad she’s okay.” The nameless man disappeared and Helena choked up a little as she considered the beautiful flowers.

 

When Helena returned to Myka’s room, Myka was awake and chatting animatedly with Helena’s father – and her own, who had returned to check on her. Her mother was also there, a silent but smiling presence at Myka’s side.

 

“Hell’s Bells, where have you been?” her father thundered, drawing a wince from her and Myka.

 

“I was talking to some reporters,” she said, before leaning over to kiss Myka and give her the flowers. “These are from your paparazzi friends, my love,” she said, and Myka smiled at her, that lopsided smile that Helena had fallen in love with.

 

“Wow, they’re beautiful,” Myka said, with a gentle smile. She passed the flowers to Amanda, who was standing behind Myka’s mother, and she took them away to find a vase. Helena sat down next to Myka and took her other hand, kissing it. She caught sight of Myka’s father rolling his eyes at the sign of affection, and she turned her gaze on him, hard and unrelenting. He dropped his eyes, grunting, after a second. Myka chuckled a little, and Helena turned back to her, smiling.

 

“Thank you,” Myka mouthed, and Helena noticed that Myka’s mother was also hiding a smile. Helena’s father took her other hand, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. Myka’s parents took their leave after another half hour or so, and after they’d gone, Myka turned to Helena.

 

“You need to go home, sweetie, and have a shower and sleep. Come back tomorrow when you’re rested and cleaned up and changed. I’ll still be here. Steve is staying, and so is Pete.”

 

Helena looked up and saw Pete hovering in the doorway awkwardly. He waved at her slightly and shrugged, and she turned back to Myka.

 

“No, Myka. I can’t leave. I don’t want…” she trailed off, and Myka squeezed her fingers.

 

“I know, baby. But you need rest. And you need to shower, and eat, and change clothes. I mean, that suit looked good a few days ago, but now it looks a little worse for wear. So please, honey, for me?”

 

Helena was helpless against those eyes. She nodded, and Myka smiled.

 

“Good. Now go, before you change your mind. Your dad’s going to drive you, okay? And I’ll be right here with the guys, and if you need to speak to me or them your dad has the numbers, okay?”

 

Helena nodded dumbly, and at Myka’s crooked finger, she moved closer and kissed her wife. Myka whispered in her ear, “Get some rest, baby. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

 

She allowed herself to be led out of the room and Claudia, who was waiting in the hallway, led them down some hallways to a back staircase that led to a parking garage where her father’s car was waiting. He drove her home and ordered them food. They ate together in silence, Charles and Amanda joining them later, and they talked quietly until Helena was too tired to stay up any more. She spoke to Myka briefly and then took a long shower. She fell into their bed, sleeping with Myka’s pillow pressed to her face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka recuperates, Helena returns to campaigning, and the election results are revealed. As are the perpetrators of the attack on Myka and the others…

* * *

 

The following day was indeed a much better day. Myka was clearly gaining strength and while she wasn’t ready to enter any marathons just yet, she was smiling and laughing and she glowed when she saw Helena standing in the doorway.

“Good morning,” Helena said quietly, and everyone in the room turned to look at her. Amanda, Steve, Liam and Pete were all still there, having stayed with Myka all night, it appeared.

“Good morning yourself,” Myka said, with that lopsided smile, and Helena felt her heart flip for a moment in her chest, even as she cursed herself for feeling this way. She moved to Myka without thought, and whoever was in the way – Liam, she thought distantly – moved so that she could be next to Myka. She leaned over to kiss her forehead, and as she did so Myka’s hands moved to the back of her neck and directed Helena’s lips firmly to hers. This was not a breathless, lust-filled kiss, but neither was it chaste, and Helena had to take a deep breath as she leaned her forehead against Myka’s.

“I missed you,” Myka whispered, and Helena replied, “I missed you too, darling.” They had not, after all, spent a single night apart since their wedding. It was a strange thing to consider, and Helena found that she didn’t want to move away from Myka – she wanted to climb into bed with her and never let go. She forced herself to move away, but she didn’t let go of Myka’s hand, and Myka wouldn’t have let her, anyway, it appeared – she kept a tight grip on Helena, and as Helena sat down she was anxiously searching her face for signs of fatigue or worry.

“I’m okay,” Helena murmured. “I slept for 8 hours. I ate dinner. You can check with my dad.”

“I will,” Myka said, smiling. They smiled at one another for a long moment until Pete broke in on their private moment.

“So gals, how’s the fake-o marriage going?” he blurted, clearly uncomfortable with their intimacy and reacting with his usual idiocy.

Helena and Myka both turned to stare at him in disbelief, and Liam stared at them both, his mouth open in disbelief.

“Fake?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Pete, for Christ’s sake!” Myka exclaimed, glaring. He put his hands up, clearly surrendering to their glares. Steve pulled Liam out of the room to explain, and Myka and Helena stared at Pete for a long moment. Amanda, who had met Pete a few times, even dated him before meeting Charles, in a strange coincidence that had surprised both Myka and Helena, slapped him across the back of the head. He stood up and began backing out of the room as she hissed at him, chasing him from the room and away from Helena, who was trying to resist the urge to throttle the idiot.

“Pete Lattimer, you get out of here and keep your stupid mouth shut. Whatever this marriage started as, it’s certainly not fake. If you want to be on Myka’s detail after this, you’re going to have to learn to keep your damn mouth shut and your eyes open, instead of the other way round…”

Helena didn’t hear the rest, as Amanda was keeping her voice low. Helena turned her head to look, once again, at Myka.

“What was Amanda saying about Pete being on your detail?”

Myka shrugged.

“Apparently Arthur Nielsen pulled some strings. If you’re elected, Pete’s going to be assigned to me. A bit of a favour from the President, apparently. He’s supposed to be the best, if you can believe that,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I can’t, quite, but if Irene Frederic says it, it’s true. I could bloody throttle him, though. It’s fair enough to say something stupid in front of those who know the details, but Liam had no idea. And he’s been such a wonderful support. He probably feels like we’ve been having him on,” Helena said, regretfully.

“It’s okay, Helena. Steve will explain. Liam will be fine,” Myka said confidently. “Now, there’s something we need to talk about, honey.”

Helena cocked her head.

“What’s that, darling?”

“You need to get the hell out of here and go do the last few television interviews we had scheduled. And the rally, and the debate.”

“No bloody way,” Helena said, immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Helena. You can argue with me, but you’re going to go in the end, I promise you. We did this – we both agreed – that we were doing this so you could be elected, so that you could make a difference. I won’t let the fact that some idiot shot me ruin the campaign. So you have to go and finish what we started. We’ve all worked so hard. Claudia hasn’t slept in months, and people died, Helena. So you’re going to kiss me goodbye, then you’re going back to the campaign offices, and if I see you back here before midnight any night this week, we’re going to have words, do you understand?”

Her expression was so fierce that Helena shrank back a little from it.

“Myka, I…” she began, choking over the words she wanted to say.

Myka stroked Helena’s knuckles with her thumb.

“Helena, I know… I know things have changed,” she began, “but whatever we have, whatever this is, we started this to make you Governor. That hasn’t changed. So do this for me. Do it for Kelly, and Wolly. Do it for the security guys who died, for the police. For that poor homeless woman. For Christina. We will win this, Helena, I know it. Just go out there and give it everything you have, and then come home to me, okay?”

Helena stared at Myka, her eyes filling with tears. Myka pulled her close and kissed her, their mouths open and wet, Helena’s tears running down her face and into their open mouths.

“Give’em hell, honey,” Myka murmured, running her hand through Helena’s hair, and kissing her again.

“For you, Myka. All of it, it’s for you,” Helena said, kissing her once more before turning and leaving the room before she couldn’t.

Claudia nearly wet herself in excitement when Helena told her she was ready to go back to work. Her proposed Lieutenant Governor, an ambitious local politician called Abigail Cho, had been dealing with the television appearances and other matters that Helena would normally have been doing in the run up to the election. Claudia practically dragged Helena to one of the larger local news studios, where a very relieved Abigail was extremely pleased to hand over the responsibility to Helena.

The interviewers were all solicitous of Myka’s health but it didn’t take long for them to trot out whatever noxious lies and innuendo the Sykes campaign had been spewing while Helena was at the hospital with Myka. Thankfully, Helena was calm and focused, and she knew that she couldn’t have done a better job in dealing with the questions, not even if she’d practised for months. Myka had given her the strength of purpose to do this, and to do this well, and she refused to let her wife down.

There was one more hurdle to overcome – the debate was the following evening – but after that there was only the final rally at her campaign headquarters before the election itself. The next few days blurred together in a sea of faces, of flashing lights, of nasty words from Sykes and his cohorts and calm, even responses from Helena and her camp. The polls were clear in showing that Sykes was losing, and after the debate, during which he became incoherent with rage after Helena tore his rhetoric on immigration and gay rights to pieces using her encyclopaedic knowledge of both the US Constitution and the Bible, it was clear that his campaign was doomed to failure. It was still a shock, however, when the news came on the final night at the rally that he and his deputy, Marcus Diamond, had been arrested following receipt of anonymous evidence showing them to have been complicit in the shooting of Myka and Kelly and the murders of the others at the opening of the homeless shelter.

Claudia took her to one side to give her the news.

“The police were here earlier this week and they took the emails – you know the hate mail that Myka wouldn’t let you read?”

Helena nodded, numbly, waiting for whatever was going to come next.

“It turns out that there’s a serious group of psychos out there – think Westboro Baptist Church, but with guns and god knows what else – and they have been threatening you and Myka and anyone who votes for you. They reached out to Walter Sykes and Marcus Diamond paid them to try to kill Myka. He figured if she died you would be incapacitated and would have to forfeit the race. They were going to kill you first, or so the police said, but they decided that was a bad idea because it would make you a martyr, and then they would probably end up with Myka taking your place – apparently that sort of thing has happened a lot, when a Governor or Senator dies – their spouse takes over. Anyway, the police were given some pretty convincing evidence anonymously, and that led them to Diamond and Sykes.”

Helena stared for a long moment.

“I don’t understand where people find that sort of hatred in them,” she said, her fists clenched but her voice weary. Claudia put a hand on her shoulder, and they stood in silence for a long time, before Helena took a deep breath and went to share the news with her supporters.

After the night was over, and the election results only a technicality given that the only term Walter Sykes would be serving was a prison term, Helena made her way to the hospital. Myka was awake, propped up watching the news on the television in the corner. She looked up when Helena stopped at the door.

“Come here, baby,” she said, turning off the television and holding her arms out. Helena slipped off her jacket and shoes and got into bed next to Myka, allowing herself to relax for the first time in days.

“I heard what happened,” Myka began, running her fingers through Helena’s hair slowly. “It was Sykes who did this.”

“Yes,” Helena said, her voice toneless. She didn’t know what to say or how to feel. She had spent her evening pretending to be glad that a man’s hatred and ambition had almost killed Myka and Kelly, and had killed several others. She had smiled and waved and bowed her head, accepting accolades that she had not earned, because Walter Sykes had wanted so badly to control others that he had stooped to murder. Not only that, but there were fanatics out there who wanted Myka and Helena and everyone like them dead. It was hard to be happy and proud in the light of all of that.

“Hey,” Myka said, lifting Helena’s chin with a finger. “You didn’t make him do this. He’s an evil bastard, Helena. He killed Kelly’s baby. He killed those policemen and that poor woman, he killed your security guys. And for what? He would have been a disaster as Governor; anyone could tell that after watching the debate.”

“You watched the debate?” Helena said, with some surprise.

“Are you kidding me?” Myka asked, her eyes wide. “Your dad and Charlie and Amanda came here with wine and popcorn – I couldn’t have missed it even if I’d wanted to, which I really didn’t, by the way. You were amazing, Helena. I have never been so proud of anyone. You were just incredible. And he was a disaster. No wonder he had to stoop to something like this,” she said, pointing at her chest vaguely.

“Thank you, Myka,” Helena said, putting her head back on Myka’s shoulder gently. Myka leaned over a little to kiss her.

“You were amazing, Helena. I’m glad I wasn’t there, because you were so damn sexy out there that I don’t think I could have resisted dragging you into your dressing room and having my way with you.”

Helena turned and looked at her in surprise.

“Myka, you were shot not four days ago. You’re insane.”

Myka shrugged. “It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

Helena stared at her and then chuckled.

“I think you might have to curb your impulses for a little while, Myka. At least until the doctors say it’s okay.”

“We’ll see,” Myka said, smiling slightly smugly, adding, “Governor Wells,” in a throaty voice that would have brought Helena to her knees, had she not already been lying down.

“You, Myka Bering-Wells, are trouble,” she managed after a moment, chuckling. Myka kissed her in response, a kiss that took her breath away, and she turned in Myka’s arms, cuddling into her, and Myka’s arms settled around her. They fell asleep that way only to be soundly scolded by the nurses a few hours later. Helena’s last thought before sleep was that she had everything that she wanted – she was going to be the new Governor of California, and her wife was safe in her arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time jump. Helena has been Governor for a few months, and she’s having a tough day, so Abigail and Claudia suggest a short break. 

 

* * *

Five months later, Helena Wells was laughing at her past self as she sat in her office in the Governor’s residence before dawn, looking at the pile of reports on her desk – reports that she was expected to read and digest in between the eight meetings on her schedule for the day, and a press conference at noon about the recent tax changes she had brought in for those earning above a million dollars a year. The change had been widely supported among her constituents but was drawing fire from the conservative right and, rather predictably, those in that particular tax bracket. She sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear, settling down to read the first of the reports – this one was about the growing water crisis in Southern California, and she had to admit that she was intrigued as to how the scientists proposed dealing with  _that_  one. She wasn’t a scientist; she didn’t have a clue how they were going to fix it.

“Hey honey,” said a soft voice from the doorway, and Helena looked up with a smile on her face. Myka had just returned from her morning run, and she looked, as ever, stunning. Her body was glistening with sweat and despite the gunshot wound she’d received just before the election, she was planning to run the first of several charity marathons within the next month.

“Hello yourself,” Helena replied, letting her eyes run up and down Myka’s body in that lazy, predatory way that she knew drove her wife crazy. They hadn’t put a name to their relationship, to what they were doing, not even after the shooting and the election. But they  _were_  married, and she didn’t find it strange now to refer to Myka as her wife, even if they weren’t technically a couple. Or rather, they  _were_  a couple, but of a rather undefined sort.

“You know I can’t stand up straight when you look at me like that,” Myka had crossed the room and her voice was close to Helena’s ear, low and husky. She kissed the side of Helena’s neck, and Helena could feel how sweaty Myka was as she kissed her way up to Helena’s earlobe.

“You know I’m terribly busy and important, Myka darling,” she said, smiling slyly to herself. “I can’t be waylaid by your base desires.”

“Oh, base desires, is that right?” Myka asked, running her tongue along the edge of Helena’s ear. “Base desires that you don’t share, I guess?” That was accompanied by a nip at the edge of the cartilage near the top of Helena’s ear, and damn the woman if she hadn’t already roused Helena to fever pitch.

“I’m working for the good of the State, Myka. I have no time for this sort of frivolity,” she said, in a faux-serious tone. They both knew that she didn’t have time for any sort of leisure, really, but they also knew that she had to make time for exactly this sort of frivolity, to keep her going. Which was why she hadn’t yet dressed in her “Governor” clothes, instead wearing yoga pants and a soft cotton t-shirt. They both knew how this would go, but they both loved to play.

“I’m terribly sorry, Madam Governor,” Myka husked, sliding her hand down and across Helena’s abdomen, making her draw in a sharp breath. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, continue,” she said, all the while allowing her hands to move in two different directions, one down and one up under Helena’s t-shirt. Helena made a show of opening the report and trying to read, but she never got past the title page. She and Myka were undressed and in the shower together moments later. This was Helena’s favourite time of day – when they got to spend at least a little time together before her duties pulled her all over the State and kept her cocooned in her office until after midnight reading reports and letters and working with state legislators to draft new laws and guidelines. Now, however, she concentrated on the water cascading down Myka’s skin, the smell of her hair, the noises she was making. It was her favourite time of day and if it were possible, she would never leave whatever space she and Myka were occupying together – whether it be the shower or the bed (or on at least one very memorable occasion, the desk). She had resigned herself to the fact that she was hopelessly in love with Myka and to the fact that she didn’t know how Myka felt about her. What they were doing was enough, or at least that’s what she told herself. Myka was alive and they were set on this course together. First California and then the White House.

Myka’s panting of her name drew her back to the moment and she dropped to her knees on the floor of the large shower stall, pulling Myka to her until Myka couldn’t hold back any more and her cries echoed around the bathroom (and probably the rest of the residence, but the staff and secret service were more than used to this by now, and no longer came to check what was wrong after the first few embarrassing instances).

They cuddled up on their bed afterwards, Myka held in Helena’s arms, and they kissed slowly, languorously, enjoying the quiet before the busy day truly began. As ever, Helena could feel the words hovering on her tongue, and she wondered, as she looked into Myka’s clear eyes, if Myka knew how she felt.

“Are you okay, honey?” Myka asked, her brow creasing a little in concern.

“Yes, of course,” Helena said. “Why?”

“You just looked a little lost, there, for a minute,” Myka said.

“How could I be lost when I’m here with you?” Helena said simply, and Myka smiled at her.

“You got that right, Wells,” she said, grinning.

“Bering-Wells, thank you darling. I haven’t started work yet,” Helena said.

“Sorry, Mrs Bering-Wells,” Myka said, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “I love this,” she said, unexpectedly, and Helena’s heart skipped slightly.

“What do you mean?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she was terrified of what Myka might say.

“I mean all of it. What you’re doing as Governor, the changes you’re making. And being here with you, in your arms, the way you touch me. I love it all.”

Helena didn’t know how to take that. It could be seen as an admission of feelings for Helena, she supposed, but could equally be taken as enjoyment of their admittedly fabulous and extremely energetic sex. So she said the only thing she could in response.

“As do I, Myka. And I have you to thank – for getting me here. For getting us here.”

Myka twisted her neck up and smiled, before running a hand up into Helena’s hair and pulling her close for a kiss.

“You didn’t need me, Helena. You would have done this without me. I’m just glad to be along for the ride.”

Helena didn’t know what to say, so she concentrated instead on the feeling of Myka’s body against hers, and she ran her hands along Myka’s naked back, tracing the puckered scar of the exit wound near her shoulder blade, and scratching her nails gently along Myka’s lower back, enjoying the controlled power of the muscles under her hands.

After a few moments more of touching one another reverently, Helena lay on her back, stretching out.

“I really do have to go now, darling,” she said, frowning.

“I know,” Myka said quietly. Helena couldn’t quite interpret the look in her eyes, so she simply kissed Myka once more before going to get dressed.

The day passed in a long, exhausting blur, as so many did these days. The State of California was light on funds and heavy on problems, the foremost of which was drought. The scientists were arguing as to how to resolve it, and the argument over the cause was a particularly bitter one. After an hour of bickering, Helena had heard enough from the scientists and her aides and representatives from a variety of companies across the State who wanted assistance.

“I don’t care, ladies and gentleman,” she said, breaking into the continuous bickering, “what caused the bloody drought. I don’t care if it was global warming or the rebirth of the fucking dinosaurs.”

Her outburst caused a number of raised eyebrows among her own staff, but she ignored them. Let them think what they liked. Not only was she irritated at this ridiculous arguing, but she missed Myka and she resented that they could not try to at least work together to fix the problem rather than pissing about like five year olds.

“This problem needs to be solved. Therefore, you will solve it. If I hear one more bloody word about whether global warming is real or not, the person who spoke that word will find themselves looking for a new job. Do I make myself entirely clear?”

There were a number of reluctant nods around the room. She stood, her hands braced on the conference table in front of her, and leaned forward, meeting the eyes of each person in the room.

“This is why we are here. To solve this crisis. It isn’t just companies like yours that are suffering,” she said, nodding to a manufacturing tycoon, “but the people of the State. The poorest people in Southern California are suffering, and you will find a way to resolve this or, in a very short time, we will all find ourselves up the proverbial creek. Only we won’t need a paddle because there’ll be no fucking water in it! So go away and come back to me tomorrow morning with some actual solutions. And believe me, I mean what I say. One more word of blame or argument and the people involved will be looking for employment.”

She raised her eyebrows, as if to say, “Well?” and the people around the table busied themselves with briefcases and papers. The room was clear of all but her Secret Service detail and her own aides within a minute.

“Good job, HG,” Claudia said from next to her. “I thought Baldy McNosepicker was going to talk all afternoon about how Global Warming is just a myth created by Democrats to turn everyone into gay fossils or whatever the frak he was saying.”

Helena nodded absently.

“I am a bit tired of people wasting my time. Hopefully this will galvanise them.”

She went to look out the window and Claudia shared a look with Abigail Cho, Helena’s Lieutenant Governor.

“What is it, Helena?” Abigail asked, softly. She was still getting to know Helena but she seemed to have a way of getting to the heart of matters.

“I… I’m not sure,” Helena said, her gaze far away. She didn’t notice that Abigail and Claudia shared another long look, or that Claudia mouthed “Myka” followed by a nod from Abigail.

“Is it Myka?” Abigail asked, and Helena turned around, startled.

“What? Why… what do you mean?” she asked, confused.

Abigail looked at her carefully.

“I know about the marriage, Helena. Claudia told me at the beginning, so we could come up with ways to deal with the fallout. I kind of thought you guys were happy though - it seemed like you found your speed. Especially if the household staff are to be believed,” she said, grinning.

Helena grinned sheepishly.

“Well, that part doesn’t seem to be a problem,” she said, with a smile. “But I… well, the thing is…” she trailed off, and Claudia filled in the rest.

“You’re madly in love with her, and you don’t know if she’s in love with you, or just attracted to you.”

“Well, yes,” Helena said, reluctantly. Claudia and Abigail once again shared looks, and Helena went to sit at the conference table again, picking up her coffee cup and taking a drink before grimacing at the cold coffee.

“I don’t think you have much to worry about there, Helena,” Abigail said, sitting next to her. “The woman meets you, spends one weekend with you, then marries you, moves across the country leaving her friends, family and job behind. Then she opens a homeless shelter in your daughter’s name, and gets shot and nearly died and she’s  _still_  here. Not to mention the two of you are at it like bunnies every chance you get. If that’s not love, Helena, I don’t know what is.”

Helena sighed.

“I… I understand what you’re saying, Abigail, but if she loves me, why hasn’t she said anything?” she asked plaintively.

“Why haven’t you?” Abigail countered logically, to which Helena could only shrug.

“You know, HG, you have all this fear of rejection and stuff after Nate and everything, but Myka isn’t that kind of person. She is still here even after she nearly died. She works at the homeless shelter, she stands by you in front of the press, she is on the board of a million boring charities to raise your profile – no-one does that just for money and fame. She never even spends your money – you know she donates most of it.”

Helena nodded and raised an eyebrow slightly, thinking.

“That’s as may be, but still – she has never said it. She said to me this morning that she loved this, what we’re doing. Not just the sex part but all of it, what I’m doing as Governor, what we’ve achieved. So I didn’t really know how to take it,” Helena said, frowning.

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to say it to you, Helena,” Abigail said, rather reasonably. “She knows that you were a bit of a player before you two met, so maybe she doesn’t want to scare you off.”

“She’s already my wife, how much more committed can we be?” Helena asked, exasperated.

“You know, Hels, I think maybe you should take a couple of days. Go to your dad’s place, do some riding, clear your head. Maybe if the two of you have some real alone time you can talk this stuff out,” Claudia suggested. “Abigail and I can handle this drought business for now – it’s not like it’s going to be fixed in a few days anyway. And we both have science backgrounds, so we can deal with that part more easily. What do you think?”

Helena thought about it for a few moments.

“Maybe. I could do with a rest, and I’d wager Myka could, too. She hasn’t stopped since she recovered. Is this really possible, Claudia?” she asked her Chief of Staff.

“Yes. Abigail and I are fully capable of dealing with the stuff you have coming up, if you trust us to,” Claudia said seriously. Helena hadn’t taken a single day off since she took office, and was reluctant to trust anyone to deal with things she considered her duties.

“Okay,” Helena said, nodding, and Claudia went off, presumably to make the arrangements. “Abigail, do you know where Myka is? It might be a good idea to check that she actually wants to take time off.”

“She’s in her office,” Abigail replied, immediately, and Helena raised an eyebrow for a moment before going to find her wife. It almost seemed as if Abigail and Claudia had something like this planned, but how could they? How could they know that she was feeling this way? She sighed and gave up worrying about it. Her staff – her friends – always had her best wishes at heart, she knew that.

Myka was on the phone with someone, presumably dealing with some sort of food supply issue with the homeless shelter. She was twirling a curl around her finger absently as she did so, and Helena decided to take a moment to just watch Myka in her element as she scolded an errant staff member. She waited until Myka had finished her call before knocking on the door jamb.

“Hey, honey. How come you’re free? I thought you had that water thing until, like, 6?” Myka said, frowning a little in confusion.

“I sent them home. The arseholes were all arguing about whose fault the bloody drought was. As if I care about what caused it, unless it has a direct bearing on how to fix it. I told them to go home and find me some answers and if they didn’t they would be looking for a new job.”

“Wow,” Myka said, shaking her head in admiration and disbelief. “You know, Claudia said you would lose it with them eventually, but I wasn’t sure. You’ve been so patient with everyone so far.”

“Well. It appears that my patience is at an end. We all have a job to do here, and all I expect from people is that they do their job. I haven’t got time to waste on ridiculous behaviour,” Helena said thoughtfully.

“Okay. Well done, Madam Governor. So what can I do for you?” Myka asked, with a crooked smile.

“Claudia and Abigail suggested that I – that we – take a short break. That we go to my family’s estate for a few days. They said they can handle things for now. The drought issue isn’t going away, and it’s not going to be solved in a few days anyway. Would you be up for a break?” Helena asked, suddenly worried that Myka wouldn’t want to go. She needn’t have worried, however, as Myka brightened up, straightening and smiling widely.

“Really? We could have some time off, just us? Is that okay for you to do?” Myka asked.

“Well, I am supposed to be the boss, so I think I can probably authorise it. If anything goes wrong, we’re only a plane ride away, and Claudia and Abigail are more than capable of handling anything that comes their way. Abigail is more experienced than I am, let’s face it. She’ll probably do a better job.”

“Well, I don’t agree with you there, but I can’t disagree with the idea of taking a break away. How do we arrange that?” Myka asked.

“Claudia is, as she would say, all over it. Expect an itinerary shortly,” Helena said, smiling.

She was correct – only a few minutes later, one of the house staff asked them to retire to their bedroom so that they could direct another member of staff in what to pack, and their travel itinerary was delivered shortly after they’d arrived in their room. Myka could not bear to let anyone else pack for them so she shoo’d out the housemaid who Claudia had sent up for that purpose, and she had packed for them both within twenty minutes.

They had a light dinner and were picked up by a car shortly afterwards, and were on Helena’s father’s jet within an hour, after getting caught in heavy traffic on the way to the airport. The flight to Manchester, New Hampshire took just under six hours and they fell into bed shortly after arriving. Helena’s father was in London for the foreseeable future directing a company takeover, so they had the place to themselves. Aside from their ever present Secret Service agents, who made themselves scarce, thankfully, while still keeping a close eye on the couple.

The following morning, they enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together. Helena felt restless, for some reason, so they got their gear together and went for a ride around the estate. At the edge of her family’s land there was a small mountain that she’d climbed several times in her younger days. They tethered the horses and sat on a blanket at the foot of the mountain, enjoying the incredible view and the stillness of the day. Their secret service detail, which didn’t include Pete, currently, because he was on leave, maintained a perimeter around them while still giving them the illusion of privacy. Helena and Myka had both learned to treat the detail as invisible, and soon enough they were.

“How are you doing, Helena?” Myka asked gently, breaking into the silence.

“I’m fine, Myka. Just a little overtired, I think. These last few months have been incredible, but so very tiring,” Helena said, leaning back on her elbows and looking up, watching some sort of bird of prey hover on the air currents near the mountain.

“It seems like it’s a little more than that, if you don’t mind the observation. And Steve – we were talking, at the weekend, and he said that it’s… he said the anniversary of Christina’s death is coming up.”

Helena took in a sharp breath. She’d actually forgotten the date.

Myka reached out a hand hesitantly to touch Helena’s shoulder. Helena didn’t look round, she just continued watching the hawk circle. How could she have forgotten something like that?

“It doesn’t make you a bad mother, Helena, if you don’t think about it every hour of every day. It just makes you human,” Myka murmured, shifting to put her arm around Helena, pulling them both down on the blanket. Helena didn’t say anything. Myka kissed her hair, pulling her a little closer.

“She would have been seven years old,” she said, quietly, keeping her eyes on the bird that was now swooping down into the nearby trees, presumably having spotted its prey in the foliage. “Seven years old. I think the worst thing is that she didn’t get to live at all. Two weeks, Myka. She was so beautiful, and I know they don’t smile at that age, but I could have sworn she was smiling at me every time I held her. I’ve never felt that joy, before or since.”

Myka said nothing, just kissed her hair again. After a long beat of silence, Helena said, “I wish she could have met you.”

“Me too,” Myka murmured. “A little girl with your eyes, with your smile? I can’t imagine anything more perfect.”

Helena turned to look at her, losing herself for a moment in Myka’s eyes.

“Do you mean that?” she asked quietly, leaning up on one elbow.

“What?” Myka asked, confused.

“Do you want to have children with me, Myka?” she asked, her stomach fluttering and her heart suddenly in her throat. She had been avoiding this, as part and parcel of the Myka ‘issue’, as she called it in her own mind. Myka loving her, and having children with Myka – they were issues that were mixed together confusingly in her brain. She suddenly knew with a clarity that pierced her that this answer  _mattered_. She wanted a family with Myka. She wanted a little boy or girl with those green eyes and those incredible curls and that crooked smile.

Myka sat up suddenly.

“I signed the contract, Helena. I said I would do whatever it took. Deb said we’d probably start talking about kids after we’d been married for 6 months or so. And we’re past that, so yes, I am prepared to do it.”

Helena sat up too, pushing her long hair back behind one ear.

“That’s not what I asked, Myka. We both signed the contract. I asked you if you  _wanted_  to have children with me. If we hadn’t signed contracts and made promises for the sake of the campaign or the Presidency or whatever, would you want children with me?”

Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, plaintive. But she needed to know the answer, suddenly, because intertwined with this answer would be the answer to her other, unspoken, question.

“Yes,” Myka said, a little breathlessly, and her eyes met Helena’s squarely. The question was answered, and Helena’s heart stuttered in her chest for a long moment as she took it in.

“Really?” she asked, shyly. Myka nodded with an answering shy smile, and they leaned forward to kiss, ending up sprawled on the blanket, half-dressed and extremely glad the paparazzi weren’t around to capture this particular moment.

Their ride home was an ambling, meandering affair. They tried to hold hands as they rode, not wanting to be separated, but neither Griffin nor Moreau were happy with that kind of close proximity, so Helena and Myka gave up on that idea with a chuckle. When they got back they turned the horses in to Jeff and went to soak together in the main bathroom’s huge bath. Helena felt almost shy as she sat in the water with Myka’s arms around her. Myka was kissing her neck and she was trembling already with incredible need. She was surprised, therefore, when Myka murmured in her ear.

“I love you,” she said, almost inaudibly. Helena was concentrating so hard on the feeling of Myka’s lips on her neck that she almost missed it. When she realised what Myka had said, she stiffened, suddenly unsure what to say, how to handle this. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Myka said, “should I not have said that? I know we never talk about this stuff but I just couldn’t help it. I was thinking about a little girl with your eyes and I just wanted to kiss you and it slipped out, I’m sorry…”

Her words came out in a torrent, a rush, and Helena just turned her head and stopped Myka with a kiss.

“I thought you’d never say that,” she said, after a long and delving kiss. “I love you too, Myka. I have for such a long time.”

Myka stared at her, and there were tears in her eyes, too.

“Do you… do you really mean that, Helena? Because I never thought… I never, ever thought you would.”

Helena laughed, and Myka’s face fell.

“Oh, God, Myka. Don’t… I just think it’s funny because I thought I was being so incredibly transparent, love, and you – you really never knew?”

Myka’s expression changed to one of relief, and Helena smiled at her so widely that her cheeks ached.

“I love you, Myka. I love you so much.”

She punctuated each word with a kiss to Myka’s lips, or neck, or throat, and soon the water was going everywhere in great waves, and neither of them cared even a little bit. Helena could have drowned, right then and there, and she wouldn’t have cared, because the woman in her arms loved her, beyond all expectation, and she didn’t think she would ever be happier. Myka’s cries were so loud that, had the house been occupied, Helena would have been ashamed to show her face again to the staff. Thankfully, because her father was away, only Jeff Weaver was on duty, taking care of the horses, and he had an office in the stable building. Their detail, as always, was on duty, but they were outside covering the entrances to the house.

Much, much later, they were wrapped up together in a blanket in front of the fire in the living room, looking out at the stars through the huge french doors that led to the balcony. It was pathetically romantic and Helena, while internally shaking her head at herself, was entirely lost. Myka loved her, and she was lost, wallowing in happiness at the feeling. She had loved Nate, and when she got pregnant, they too had been deeply in love, or so she had thought. But with Myka – she knew, she felt it deep, deep within her, somewhere inside her bones, that Myka would never leave her, not unless Helena herself drove her away. She knew that Myka would stand beside her for any tragedy, any triumph, and that certainty was making itself known in the relaxation of her heart, the dropping of her guard.

“How long?” Myka murmured in her ear.

“How long what, darling?” Helena asked.

“How long have you loved me? You said ‘for such a long time’. So, how long?” Myka asked smiling.

“Honestly?” Helena asked, sitting up a little so that she could like Myka in the eye.

“Of course, honestly,” Myka said, rolling her eyes.

“The day you took me to see the homeless shelter. That night, in fact. When you made me dinner. I don’t know if you remember, but I got out of the pool, and I was going to shower, and you were there in the kitchen cooking. You had sauce on your cheek, and I looked at you and I just knew. And I was cursing myself; I hid in the shower for ages.”

“I remember you were in the shower for a long time. But why were you cursing yourself?” Myka asked, puzzled.

“I didn’t want to fall in love,” Helena confessed. “I wanted to be… well, I wanted to be an island. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. Loving someone – it makes you vulnerable to them, and after Nate... well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

Myka nodded solemnly, tracing Helena’s lips with a finger, and looking at her so sincerely that Helena’s heart stuttered.

“You know I’m not him, right?” Myka asked. Helena nodded.

“I would never – I mean, I would never leave you like that. If you pushed me away enough, or hurt someone else or me deliberately, I guess it’s possible that I would leave then. But I would never leave you like that, Helena. I would never desert you when you were hurting, even if I didn’t love you the way I do.”

Helena looked at her, eyes filling.

“You are an incredible human being, Myka. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out, honey. I… you’ve changed my life, you know. You always sat that I’m this amazing person because I’m here and I married you the way I did, but I wouldn’t have done any of that if you hadn’t inspired me. You’re going to make a huge difference to the world, Helena, and I want to be by your side when you do. But I would follow you even if you wanted to be a garbage collector. And then I went and fell in love with you, and I thought you’d never feel the same, because it seemed like you were doing your best to avoid love, with all the one night stands and everything. I can’t believe you…” she trailed off uncertainly, and Helena couldn’t resist kissing her again.

“Believe it, Myka. You amaze me. I love you so much.”

They spent the weekend wrapped up in each other, mostly in bed but they did spend some time riding around the estate or swimming together; it had become a routine for them to have a swim after work was done for the day when they could. Helena didn’t think she could be any happier. She was almost certain of it, in fact, but on the Monday morning of their long weekend Myka turned to her and smiled widely, her eyes on Helena’s.

“What is it, darling?” Helena asked curiously.

“Why don’t we do it now?” Myka asked.

“Do what?” Helena asked, confused.

“Have a baby. I’m pretty sure that Deb can set something up today if we fly down there. I know a fertility doctor – she’s Pete’s mom, actually.”

Her face was alight with excitement and Helena was momentarily frightened by the idea. However, she realised that Myka was right. They could do it, and there was nothing stopping them. More than that, she wanted this – she wanted Myka to be pregnant, she wanted them to have a child together. She wanted them to have a family.

“Okay,” she said, simply, and Myka stared at her for a moment in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really,” Helena confirmed, nodding. “Why wait?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insemination and loud sex and brooding, oh my.

So they didn’t wait. Later that day, after a huge number of phone calls and a hastily arranged flight, they were in the clinic of Dr Jane Lattimer, mother of Pete.

 

“Good afternoon, Myka,” she said, in a raspy voice, after giving Myka a hug. “And you must be Governor Wells. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

 

Helena shook her hand, smiling. Something about Jane Lattimer inspired confidence – confidence that Pete Lattimer had never inspired in her, she had to admit. But his mother was impressive.

 

“So, we’re doing an insemination today, I understand?”

 

They both nodded.

 

“Deb was most insistent that we get this done today, before you changed your minds, she said. Something about it looking good for your future prospects? I could never do that woman’s job; she’s far too devious. She gets the job done, mind you, but she’s definitely devious,” Jane Lattimer said, chuckling. Helena and Myka joined in. Deb was one of a kind, that was for sure.

 

“So, whose sperm are we using?” Jane asked, before pausing. “Oh God, it’s not Pete’s, is it?” she said in horror, staring at the specimen jar in her (gloved) hand.

 

“No, it’s not. It belongs to a close friend of ours, Steve. He’s been screened as a donor before,” Helena said, and Myka looked at her curiously for a moment. She had, of course, agreed to the use of Steve’s sample, but she didn’t know why he had already been screened as a donor before. Helena made a mental note to tell her about it one day, unless Myka brought it up in the meantime.

 

“Okay, well, let’s get this show on the road. I’m going to leave you for five minutes or so. Studies show that these things take much better when the mother is…let’s say, happy. So maybe in those five minutes you could think of something that would make Myka feel happy? I’ll knock very loudly before I come back in, don’t worry,” she said, and disappeared with a grin.

 

“Oh my God, I saw this on the L word but I thought they were just joking,” Myka groaned. “She can’t be serious, can she?”

 

Helena thought for a moment and then her eyes went wide.

 

“Oh dear Lord – does she really mean for us to… right here?”

 

Myka nodded, her eyes wide. Helena rolled up her sleeves.

 

“Well, never let it be said that I didn’t do my bit to assist in the conception of my own child,” she said, with a wicked grin, before practically diving under Myka’s hospital gown. Myka made a small sound of protest before jamming her own fist in her mouth to contain her cries.

 

When Jane returned (after knocking extremely loudly and waiting for a response) the insemination was over in what seemed like seconds. Myka’s face was bright red from embarrassment but both she and Helena were happy and excited to begin this new time in their life.

 

They went to Helena’s apartment to spend a few hours lying down, to help the pregnancy to take, and as instructed, they had made love lazily a few more times, to encourage Myka’s uterus to welcome the intrusion. A little later, Steve came round to visit and they ate together, catching up and chatting for hours before they had to catch a flight back to Sacramento and their real life. On the way home, Myka slept with her head in Helena’s lap, and as Helena watched her wife sleep, she wondered what she had been so frightened of all this time.

  

* * *

 

 

Marital bliss suited Helena, it turned out. Being so happy at home was helping to centre her. When she was working she was focused, she was calm, she was in charge. She did, after all, have to fire two staff members for trying to derail their talks on the drought with their rhetoric on climate change being a liberal conspiracy, but after that things settled and they made some serious headway on the issue of the drought within a few days, after considering some rather unorthodox and old-fashioned ideas that had fallen out of favour, but were effective, at least in the short term, in dealing with the problem. Teams of scientists were working on a long-term solution, but for now the situation was as under control as it was going to get.

 

“I’m proud of you, honey,” Myka said to her that evening as they were eating dinner together. It was after 9pm, so it was not exactly a normal time to eat dinner, but for them it was an achievement to even manage this. Normally Helena ate a sandwich at her desk or on a plane or in a car somewhere.

 

“Proud of me for what, darling?” Helena asked, before taking a large swallow of wine. Myka was avoiding alcohol – they had another week before they could take a pregnancy test, and she wanted to be on the safe side.

 

“You managed to get through this drought thing, you found a solution and you didn’t kill even one of your staff in the process,” Myka said, grinning cheekily as she put a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

 

“Well, I did have to fire a couple of people, but that was their own fault. I warned them. It’s not my fault they didn’t believe me. And they’ll get jobs right away, I’m sure. There are plenty on the conservative right who want idiots like that on their staff,” Helena said, smiling back at Myka. It was wonderful to see Myka this way; so relaxed and happy.

 

“Well, I’m proud of you anyway,” Myka said.

 

“I wonder what I did in a previous life to deserve someone like you,” Helena said thoughtfully as she finished her last mouthful.

 

“God only knows, honey. But I’m sure you’ll make up for it eventually,” Myka said, laughing and letting out a snort that surprised them both into laughter for several minutes.

 

“Shut up, Myka. I don’t deserve you at all, honestly.”

 

“You shut up, Helena,” Myka said, pulling Helena from her chair to sit on her lap. “Maybe neither of us deserves the other, but this is where we are. And I, for one, am not letting you go.” She pulled Helena’s head down for a long kiss, and after a while Helena couldn’t have cared less who deserved who, because they were with one another and they were in love.

 

The big day came after another exhausting week, and Helena asked Claudia to clear her morning to allow them privacy to take the pregnancy test. They sat waiting in their ensuite bathroom and Helena asked Myka nervously, “Did you follow the instructions, love?”

 

Myka rolled her eyes.

 

“The instructions are to pee on it, Helena. I don’t usually pee on things, I’ll admit, but I’m pretty sure I managed it okay.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Helena said, reddening slightly. “I’m just…”

 

“Nervous, I know,” Myka interrupted. “You think I’m not? I’m going crazy here. This is the longest three minutes of my life.”

 

They took one another’s hands and took deep breaths until the timer on Myka’s phone beeped.

 

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and she picked up the pregnancy test and stared at it.

 

“What does it say?” Helena asked anxiously, immediately.

 

“I’m pregnant, Helena.”

 

“Are you sure?” Helena asked, her eyes filling.

 

“Yes. I’m pregnant, honey. We’re having a baby.”

 

Their exuberant lovemaking was loud enough to cause Claudia, who was downstairs, to cancel the rest of Helena’s day, too. She shook her head with a grin and called Deb Stanley to tell her that Myka was pregnant.

 

The pregnancy proceeded very much as these things do – Myka had average levels of morning sickness, according to Jane Lattimer.  Helena rather thought that it was lucky that Jane was consulting with them via Skype on that particular day because the expression on Myka’s face when Jane said “average” promised all sorts of mayhem and destruction for Jane, had she been physically present. Helena knew better than to laugh, however. Her previously calm and composed wife had become – at least in private – what might have been described as a “rage monster” by Claudia, if Claudia hadn’t been so terrified of pregnant Myka, that is. Myka became incensed at the littlest things, and if Helena didn’t fetch the required foodstuffs in time when Myka had cravings, she was liable to explode into either uncontrollable rage or uncontrollable tears. The upside of all this – aside from the baby, of course – was that she usually became what was delightfully described as “horny” by Claudia and Abigail once the rage or tears had passed. Myka and Helena spent even more of their free time now firmly ensconced in their bedroom or the shower or the sofa, frightening the household staff with their uninhibited sex.

 

“You know, you could try and tone down the noise a little,” Claudia suggested caustically one morning after a particularly energetic session in the shower. “Some of us have to work in this building, and I’m pretty sure there are a few of the housekeeping staff who are going to quit if you and Myka don’t learn to bite the pillow.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Claudia,” Helena said airily. “You’re just jealous because Todd or whatever his name is doesn’t keep you in the shower before work.”

 

Claudia shrugged at that, but she didn’t deny it. Helena took great delight, thereafter, in rousing Myka to new heights of both pleasure and volume.

 

The other aspect of the pregnancy that impacted on them both was that Myka had finally decided not to return to work as a teacher – at least not for the foreseeable future. She could only have taken a job for six months or so, anyway, she reasoned, so she decided to put it off until she had the time.

 

“You realise this probably means that you won’t be able to take a job teaching until after the presidential campaign is finished?” Helena had asked anxiously.

 

“Well, yeah. But honestly, Helena, I have plenty to keep me busy here. I’m on the board of about a million charities, and there’s the shelter, and then the baby is going to keep me pretty busy, I would imagine. I mean, I haven’t done it before, but I know that Kelly and Wolly have backed off from the shelter a little since they adopted Vincent,” Myka had replied, looking remarkably content with her decision. Helena had smiled at her, and they had wrapped themselves up in each other, watching some trashy but entertaining show about a fixer in Washington that really _had_ to be based on Deb Stanley.

 

Myka did not seem to be regretting her decision. The Christina Wells homeless shelter was thriving, not only offering shelter and food to those who needed it, but helping to rehabilitate the homeless, dealing with mental health issues and learning difficulties, and finding cheap and safe lodgings for those who were ready for such a move. There was already talk of opening more shelters in different parts of the city to help the homeless populations.

 

The presidential campaign – well, that was already in the planning stages. The state had to be governed and Helena was concentrating on that for the time being, while Claudia and Abigail, among others, were concentrating on how to get another campaign – a significantly higher profile campaign – off the ground.

 

Early indications were that there was a lot of support for Helena on the Democratic side, at least. She was not beloved by Republicans, but she had never expected to be. She did need some support from both sides, but she had no idea how to court Republican votes. Thankfully, that was not going to be a problem for her to concern herself with just yet. Research and polls of all sorts were being conducted. She would more than likely have to court the votes of people she abhorred, at one point or another in the future, but for now, she had the luxury of concentrating on her wife and their baby.

 

She had been rather terrified, at first, of having another baby, given the circumstances surrounding her first marriage and Christina’s death. But Myka was so happy, and she made Helena so happy, that she found it difficult to worry overly about the baby. She worried a normal amount, of course, about the baby’s health and how it would cope with the unusual life it was being born into. But she was somehow relaxed and centred about it, really, because Myka was. Yes, Myka had emotional times of various sorts due to the hormonal overload in her system, some more enjoyable than others. But she was, at her heart, perfectly content and happy to be where she was, married to the woman she loved and carrying their baby, and it showed. She glowed serenely, and was more beautiful to Helena than she had ever been.

 

The drought problem was well underway to being solved, due to the invention of a water bottle that changed air into water. Claudia had found out about a Kickstarter online for the invention, and had, with Helena’s permission, approached the inventor and purchased the rights to the invention. With some alteration to the design, most of which was Claudia’s work, apparently, they came up with a self-filling water tower that could make huge amounts of water from thin air. The water towers were manufactured without delay and connected to the infrastructure after what felt like endless meetings with the various companies supplying water across the State. The companies could charge their usual amounts for the water supply as long as they paid the government a certain amount. A scheme was also set up for those in need so that they had access to a clean water supply even if they weren’t able to afford it. The development of this invention had brought Helena’s little State to the attention of the world – the Governor of Michigan had already contacted Helena for help with the issues in his State, where people in the town of Flint were drinking water that made them ill because they had no choice. And of course they had been contacted by a number of charities in the Third World who wanted to use the water towers to ease drought and to reduce deaths from drinking dirty water, and negotiations were underway to introduce them in areas of drought. It was a marvellous start to her campaign for the Presidency, she knew. Her name was on the lips of many important people, and while the invention had of course been the brainchild of the inventor of the original water bottle, and the adaptation of it had been Claudia’s idea, Helena was the one who had implemented it so effectively across the State and had negotiated successfully with a large number of companies to make sure the towers were used to their full potential. Her years of litigating and dealing with big business had stood her in good stead for running the State.

 

Helena stood, one evening about three months into Myka’s presidency, on the balcony of her office in the Gubernatorial mansion, looking out at the gardens in the dark. She was contemplating the life that she now had. A year ago she had been single and sleeping with anyone she fancied. Models, lawyers, businesswomen, politicians. She had a one night stand and she moved on, somehow managing to stay friendly with vast majority of the women she slept with. 

 

In that one aspect alone, her life had transformed. She had met someone in what was meant to be a purely business transaction on her part, a political wife to stand at her side and make her look less reprehensible than the public believed her to be. What she had gained instead was a true partner, a person she was completely in love with, and who was in love with her. A woman who was pregnant with a child that would be theirs. A reason to wake up in the morning, other than to meet her goal of running the State and then the country. She could spend hours thinking about Myka, the colour of her eyes, the tint of red in her chestnut hair, the way that hair looked fanned out on the pillow of their bed, the scent of her skin, the way she sounded when she woke in the morning. The conversations that they had about books, about life, about love, about the world as it was and as it could be.

 

The shooting had shaken Helena Wells thoroughly, to her core. To her bones. She had set herself on this path a long time ago, the path to the Presidency, and she had never wavered until the day Myka was shot. That day, she had wanted to burn the world down. She’d wanted to find the people who did it and kill them with her bare hands. What she had done – getting Wolly to investigate – had been bad enough. People had been hurt as a result, Wolly himself first and foremost. But also those who he thought might be guilty. She tried not to think too much about what he might have done to those people. But part of her, a dark and unpleasant corner of her soul, wanted to know. Wanted to have seen the pain he caused. Wanted to have done the damage herself.

 

She was still set on the path she had started on. She had a mission, a plan to reshape the country and the future, to make the world a better place. But if something happened to Myka or to their baby, she couldn’t be sure that she would stay on that path. She wasn’t sure she would stay sane, after such a loss. She took a sip from her glass – she wasn’t allowed to drink around Myka, now, so she occasionally had a glass in her office when she felt like it. The whisky burned her throat pleasantly as it went down. Helena closed her eyes for a moment and went back inside, making her way back to her wife in the silence of the sleeping mansion.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 - Myka. 
> 
> So, I'm finally ready to continue with this fic. We're back to the beginning, to see what Myka was thinking when she was approached to meet a potential candidate for governor and maybe President.

* * *

 

_Part 2 - Myka_

_So, before I go any further with this fic, I need to apologise for a few errors I’ve made so far, and beg your indulgence… Firstly, the Secret Service do not protect Governors and Senators/Congress as I thought they did. So I apologise for that. But since it impacts a fair bit on my story, and I’d have to rewrite the bits with Sam etc… I hope you’ll all just let it go and pretend that it doesn’t matter, though it obviously does. And secondly, I accidentally said that the Gubernatorial mansion was in LA, when it’s actually in Sacramento. I have tried to correct any instances of that particular error, but if you see any more mentions of them living in LA after Helena is elected Governor, please shout at me and I’ll fix it. Many thanks to the lovely Apparitionism for pointing out my teensy tiny (giant, glaring) errors in such a polite and helpful way._  
  


_My thanks go to @sistersin7 for the suggestion of switching to Myka’s POV at some point. I was stuck, here, for about six months, actually, not knowing how to get to where I wanted to go next in this fic, and then I suddenly thought about going back to the beginning from Myka’s POV, and it suddenly clicked._

* * *

**_The Oval Office, Washington DC, August 2020, a few days after Helena is confirmed as the Democratic Nominee for President_ **

_Artie Nielsen was pacing, his face red and sweaty, his hideous brown suit wrinkled and unkempt, much like the man himself. His lack of attention to his appearance, however, had no bearing on his attention to detail. The man knew everything, absolutely everything, and had guided the career of the current president for the last thirty-eight years._

_“You’re absolutely sure that they made a deal? That she threatened to out Bennett and James?” he asked, again, and the woman sitting on the sofa opposite President Frederic nodded, chewing her nails furiously._

_“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, Madame President, but I think that you endorsing Helena as the next President might be a mistake.”_

Part 2 – Myka

 

Myka was bored. Her kids kept her days interesting, sure. She was doing good in the world in a small way – literally, with her elementary school kids. But she was so, so bored. So when a young blonde woman with what sounded like a fake Southern Belle accent approached her when she’d finished volunteering at a local old people’s home, she was intrigued despite herself.

 

“So, you work for a fixer?” Myka asked bluntly, once they’d sat down at the coffee shop closest to her house. The woman – Sally – nodded, surprised.

 

“My Dad is the Speaker,” Myka said. “You don’t think I could figure out that you work for a fixer? Really?”

 

Sally Stukowski shrugged slightly.

 

“This is the first time I’ve dealt with something like this, Mrs Martino,” she said, in her fake drawl. Myka winced. Sam had been gone for a long time, and she’d reverted back to Bering a long time ago. She was pretty sure that any fixer worth their salt would know that. The girl was probably trying to upset her, to see how she reacted.

 

“It’s Bering, Sally. Could you drop the Southern Belle bullshit and tell me what you want?” she asked, bluntly, and the girl’s sickly-sweet smile dropped off her face.

 

“Fine,” she said, and this time her accent was New York, Myka thought. Not too strong, but maybe a little Brooklyn.

 

“I work for a fixer. She has a client with a public relations issue, and she thinks that the way to fix it is you. If you want to know any more, you need to sign this NDA.”

 

An NDA – a non-disclosure agreement – before even telling her why she was supposed to be the answer to this supposed problem? Myka was a little sceptical, but it wasn’t like she was a gossip so promising not to mention whatever this PR problem was wouldn’t be an issue. She signed the agreement with a flourish, taking a sip of her coffee and nodding at Sally to continue.

 

“The client is a promising prospect for Governor of a prominent state, and possibly for President, if things go well. Liberal, confident, caring. But they have a problem with public image because they have been seen out with different women. People don’t trust them because of it. So we’re looking for a wife to the future President.”

 

Myka looked at the woman in disbelief. She hadn’t even noticed the lack of pronouns, a small matter that would come back to bite her a little later, but what she had noticed was ridiculous enough.

 

“You want me to marry some guy I never met so that he can be President? Are you crazy?” Myka asked, her brow creased in disbelief. Sally laughed, stopping her in her tracks abruptly.

 

“Please, Myka. You’re bored silly. You haven’t done anything you wanted to do, not since you fell in love with Sam Martino. You didn’t join the Secret Service or become a doctor. You just worked in your dad’s office for a while and then you got your teaching credentials and just kind of stopped. I know you want to be a force for good in the world. And I think teachers are awesome, don’t get me wrong. But you have a chance, here, to do some real good. I don’t usually care about politics, but when President Frederic was elected, I felt like we were on the right path, finally. But she can only run the country for four more years, and then we’re going to have another crapshoot. Anyone could stand – there is no guarantee of a good President. So when I heard about this candidate, about what they stand for, I felt relieved. And if you make the candidate more acceptable to the public, if you can be the wife they need to guide them to the Presidency, you will have done immense good,” Sally said, and for a wonder, she actually looked like she believed what she was saying. Despite herself, Myka felt swayed. And stung, that Sally Stukowski or her boss or whoever had read her so easily. She _was_ bored, and she did want to do something useful, but marrying some guy to make him the President wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. That wasn’t any better than what she’d done with Sam – putting his needs before hers, staying in his shadow, not becoming a Secret Service Agent because he didn’t want her to. Still, though. She didn’t have anything better to do, and she was nothing if not curious.

 

“What would I have to do?” Myka asked, despite herself. Sally smiled a little smugly.

 

“Nothing, yet. But we’ll be in touch. Here’s some stuff to read about the candidate’s beliefs and potential policies,” Sally said briskly, leaving Myka with some reading material that she perused later that night.

 

The candidate was liberal and smart, a lawyer with a large firm, well-read and forward-thinking. They knew the Constitution backwards and forwards. Myka did think about who it might be, briefly, but she couldn’t put a face to the person Sally’s profile described. The person had lost a child and had decided to try to help people as a result of the tragedy. The information given wasn’t particularly detailed but it did pique Myka’s curiosity somewhat. It was a few days later when Sally called her in to speak to her boss, Deb Stanton, the woman behind the curtain.

 

“Myka, welcome,” Deb said, shaking her hand. She was unsmiling and business-like but she clearly didn’t miss a thing, she had taken in every detail about Myka in one glance, it seemed. There was no way to tell what she was thinking.

 

They sat in silence for a moment, Myka waiting for Deb to speak, and Deb regarding her expressionlessly. Myka wasn’t entirely sure whether this was supposed to psyche her out, but her father had used silence as a weapon against her for many years. It would take a lot more to break Myka Bering. She sat in silence without fidgeting, meeting Deb’s eyes coolly.

 

“Good. You’re not a shrinking violet, then,” Deb said finally.

 

“Did you really think I was?” Myka asked, with a raised eyebrow.

 

“No, not really. But you can never tell. Just because a person appears strong on the outside, doesn’t mean they are on the inside.”

 

Myka shrugged.

 

“So, why are you here?” Deb asked, crossing her legs, her hair perfectly styled and her white suit spotless. Myka envied her poise. Her own hair resembled a bird’s nest on this particular morning.

 

“Your assistant contacted me. Apparently you think I might be a good match for your candidate,” Myka said.

 

“That’s not what I asked. Why are _you_ here? I know what I did, and what Sally did. But why are you here?” Deb asked, apparently disinterested.

 

“I’m bored. Sally said it. I’m bored. I fell in love with Sam, and it wasn’t a mistake, don’t get me wrong. But it sort of derailed my plans, and things just… stagnated. I’m not saying I’m really that happy about the idea of standing in someone else’s shadow the way I did with Sam, but I will say that I’m interested to see this candidate who you think I’m such a good match for.”

 

Deb regarded her silently for another long moment, before standing, briskly, her hair falling in perfect waves and her clothes flawless.

 

“Let’s do that, then. The candidate is down the hall,” Deb said, and Myka had the sudden feeling that she’d passed a test of some sort. She also felt inexplicably nervous. Who was this guy, that they really believed he could be President to the point that they’d pull a stunt like this, a fake marriage, to make him palatable to the public? She stood, taking a deep breath, and Deb shook her hand again before leading her to a white door, behind which waited the possibility of a new life. Or the possibility of a truly terrible idea. Myka breathed in and counted to five.

 

“Are you ready?” Deb asked, and Myka nodded. She could do this. How bad could it be?

 

Deb opened the door and said something that Myka couldn’t hear, before stepping back and indicating that Myka should go in. Myka stepped into the room and was stunned to see a woman sitting there. An incredibly beautiful woman, who was familiar to Myka.  She’d seen her in those gossip magazines that one of the other teachers was always reading, always with a different woman on her arm. And Myka’s dad knew her. What was her name? Helena something.

 

Myka looked at the woman, trying not to stare. Helena Wells, that was it. She had been at the White House a few times, was an expert on the Constitution. Myka heard her say something, and her mind caught up, quickly. Helena wanted to know about her. Myka said a few sentences about her job, about the kids, and Helena asked her whether she’d be willing to give up her job for campaigning. Myka frowned, and said something about how she’d rather not give it up permanently. In all honesty, she was just trying to cover the fact that she didn’t want to do this. Not that Helena wasn’t attractive. She was, and Myka wasn’t straight. But there was no way in hell that her dad would allow Helena Wells to become the Democratic party’s next nominee for President. He was a Democrat, sure, but he was just a different side of the same coin – just as conservative, really, as his Republican counterparts. He would hate Helena and pretty much everything she stood for. He’d almost disowned Myka, after all, when he found out she had kissed a girl at college. A black woman as President was one thing, but a lesbian? Or bisexual, maybe? No way.

 

“The First Lady teaching elementary school?” Helena asked, one eyebrow up in a ridiculously attractive expression. Myka blinked, and then snorted.

 

“What?” Helena asked, and her eyes had narrowed a little. Myka tried to dial it back, but didn’t succeed. She said something awful about how there was no way they’d elect a lesbian as President. Then Helena asked her if she was homophobic, and Myka flushed. This was not going well. She tried to explain her train of thought, that her Dad wouldn’t let it happen, that the party wouldn’t accept it. Helena regarded her for a moment, and then they had a little back and forth about Myka not being afraid to speak her mind, and then Helena asked her why she hadn’t considered that the candidate might be a woman. Myka was stunned. It occurred to her that Sally hadn’t used any gendered pronouns, referring only to the candidate or referring to Helena as ‘they’. She might as well have been beating Myka over the head with the fact that the candidate was a woman, and Myka had missed it. She blushed fully, then, her face heating and she even felt her chest reddening, prickly with heat. Suddenly she felt the same panic she would have felt if she hadn’t studied for a test, or had screwed up in fencing because she hadn’t practised. And anyway, this wasn’t what Myka believed, it was what her dad believed. She thought anyone could do anything. And the way Helena was sizing her up? She might just be the exception, anyway.

 

Helena said something about how Myka clearly wasn’t suitable for this, that she didn’t believe in Helena. And suddenly, Myka was hooked. The woman looking up at her as if she was invading her space, as if she was a clumsy giraffe on a plain populated by beautiful gazelles or unicorns or something – the woman was interesting. An enigma. Myka was curious, and that had always been her downfall.

 

“Maybe you could convince me,” she said, cursing herself for letting her curiosity win, while part of her rejoiced when Helena smiled in reply.

 

After a short discussion with Deb, they went to a place nearby for lunch. Myka tried to keep her nerves in check. After all, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to do this. Right? Myka played idly with the stem of her water glass as Helena asked her about what she did for fun. Myka told her about the shooting and fencing trophies she’d won as a kid, about how she was planning to join the Secret Service but first her dad and then Sam had put her off. And then Helena said the words that Myka dreaded – that she was sorry about Sam. Myka was sick of hearing it. Yes, Sam was a hero. Yes, Sam had saved her Dad’s life. But Myka had been safe, and he was doing what he always did, which was to dominate, to take over. She’d already found cover. The shooter, a nutjob who’d been stalking her father for months, wasn’t even shooting at Myka. He wanted Warren Bering dead. Sam had to be the hero, running to protect her. Even the idiot stalker, who wasn’t a particularly good shot, couldn’t have missed him. Myka remembered every moment – the curse of having almost perfect recall – and the way Sam’s body had spun when the bullet hit him in the chest, slightly off to one side. He’d spun in a pirouette, like a ballet dancer, and then collapsed. Two other agents had taken the shooter down by then, and Myka was free to make her way to him. To watch him die. She put pressure on the wound, but she knew it was pointless. The bullet had basically shredded the aorta and he bled out in a few minutes. He had already lost consciousness before she got there. She never got a chance to say goodbye or to tell him how much of an idiot he was for running out of cover to get to her.

 

It was all of this that was in her mind when Helena said she was sorry about Sam. Myka usually smiled and nodded, being the sad widow and all. But this was supposed to be about getting to know each other, so she looked at Helena and she was honest. She’d never been this honest with anyone, as a matter of fact, when it came to Sam.

 

“He was an idiot,” Myka said. Her voice was cold, she knew, but she was so tired of it. Helena tried to interject with some sort of platitude, but Myka barrelled right over her.

 

“He got himself killed when he didn’t need to. My dad was already safe. He was trying to protect me, and I didn’t need protecting – the guy wasn’t even shooting at me. Sam was just playing the hero,” Myka said, and while she was truly, really pissed off at Sam, the analytical part of her mind was watching to see how Helena would react.

 

Helena leaned forward almost immediately, touching Myka’s hand. Her hand was soft and warm, and Myka looked at it and then up at Helena’s face, a little confused.

 

“Either way, I’m sure it must have been very difficult for you to lose him, and I am sorry,” Helena said, and the compassion in her voice made the lump in Myka’s chest loosen and unfurl. Myka explained a little about how she felt, how Sam had stopped her from joining the Secret Service and how much she regretted that. Helena was smart, understanding, compassionate and direct. Myka was beginning to understand how Helena managed to get so many women to sleep with her, even with her reputation.

 

The food arrived and Myka tried her salad, enjoying the chicken in the honey mustard dressing. She was pretty disciplined, generally, when it came to food, only treating herself occasionally. The salad was low in calories but compared to most healthy food, it was pretty good. Helena was eating pasta, rich and creamy carbonara with fettucine. It looked and smelled delicious. Myka was briefly regretful that she hadn’t allowed herself to have something more comforting. It occurred to her that maybe she ought to find out a little more about Helena, so she asked what Helena did with her free time, if she had any. Then she made her second mistake of the day. When Helena mentioned going out on ‘dates,’ she snorted. It wasn’t on purpose, it was just that it was so clear that whatever Helena had been doing with all of those gorgeous models and sportspeople and Washington hangers-on, it wasn’t dating. It was sex, pure and simple. Helena looked at her, caught somewhere between annoyed and amused, it appeared.

 

Helena made self-deprecating comments, calling her one-night stands ‘dinner and a shag,’ which Myka found hopelessly adorable. Myka said something jokey about how Helena was at least honest about her behaviour, and then Helena asked her seriously if it was a problem for her. Myka was a little taken aback, it had to be said. She had never considered herself judgemental, but she was somewhat of a straight arrow, she knew. Perhaps she had judged Helena too harshly. She chose her next words very carefully.

 

“It doesn’t bother me as such, I just find it difficult to understand the impulse to sleep with someone you’ve just met. Let alone a lot of someones.”

 

That was when Helena told her about the circumstances surrounding the death of her child. Myka couldn’t imagine the pain. To lose your child in such a sudden and senseless way, and then to have your partner leave you behind, lost in grief? Myka was not only heartbroken for Helena, but ashamed for her own judgemental behaviour, and she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes. She said something that felt inane and insufficient in the face of the kind of pain that Helena had dealt with, and then there was silence for a short while as they finished their food. Afterwards, Myka asked Helena to walk with her, and then she asked why she was doing things this way, marrying someone in this way.

 

And that was when it happened. Helena Wells was leaning forward, her elbows on the wall overlooking the Potomac, and she told Myka why she wanted to do this. She believed, truly, that she could make a difference. And for forty seconds or so, Myka believed it too. She had chills.

 

Myka wasn’t sure what she said, then. She wasn’t sure of anything, but she found herself wandering aimlessly, Helena’s card in her hand, until she arrived back at Deb Stanton’s office.

 

“Myka, come in,” Deb said, from the doorway. She was standing there with a cup of coffee, which she handed to Myka before gesturing for her to come inside.

 

“How did you know I was… you know what? Never mind,” Myka said, as Deb just smiled at her, slightly smug.

 

“Come on, sit,” Deb said, showing Myka to the same room where she’d met Helena earlier. “How did it go?”

 

“I don’t know,” Myka said honestly. “I like her, but I don’t know. This is such a crazy idea…” she trailed off, and Deb looked at her calmly.

 

“It’s not that crazy,” she said, and Myka looked at her in disbelief before laughing. Deb did not join in.

 

“You told me you were bored. Aimless, right? And Helena has nothing _but_ an aim,” Deb said. Myka looked at her, wide-eyed.

 

“What does that mean?” she asked.

 

“She hasn’t had a relationship for years, and yes she’s been sleeping around. Less than the press would have you believe. But still. Did she tell you what happened with her daughter and the ex-husband?” Deb asked. Myka nodded dumbly.

 

“She needs something, Myka. A tether. She has all this drive to make the world a better place, but she doesn’t realise that she’ll need something more tangible that just her ideals to get her through this. Look, you don’t know me, Myka,” Deb said, seemingly relaxing a little, undoing her jacket and slinging it over the back of her chair. “I’m not a political person, really. I mean, I fix problems for them. That’s part of my job. But politics doesn’t really interest me. But her? I don’t know about you, but she makes me believe in her without even trying. She’ll say something off-the-cuff about improving the world and I’ll just get drawn in,” Deb said, almost dreamily. Myka nodded, eyes wide.

 

“That’s how it happened with me!” she said, and Deb smiled at her. “She barely said anything, but I just… I just believed her, that she really meant it, that she wants to make things better. And I agree with her policies, you know? I just… I still can’t really get over the whole pretend marriage thing,” Myka said, and Deb nodded sympathetically.

 

“I know that it’s a hell of a thing to get used to. It sounds crazy and stupid. But if I said arranged marriage, you wouldn’t find it as strange. Archaic, maybe, for present-day white Americans. But not crazy. You and Helena are a great match. I honestly think that, given time, you could be really good together. And if you’re trying to make a difference, Myka, I believe that Helena will be President if you help her,” Deb said, and she was looking at Myka directly, now. Myka could feel her face heating, a predictable response to this sort of direct attention, but she could also feel something in her chest warming and welling up like liquid. It was hope, and it had been a while since Myka had felt anything remotely like it. She nodded, overwhelmed, and sent a text message to Helena’s phone, inviting her to dinner. Deb Stanton smiled.

 

Myka stayed there for another hour or so. Now that Deb was sure she was in, she spoke frankly to Myka about how she believed Helena would react when they inevitably had to pretend to be a couple.

 

“She might seem like she’s fine with intimacy, but whatever she’s been doing with all of those women, it wasn’t intimacy,” Deb said, and she looked a little sad at that. Myka looked at her for a moment before asking.

 

“What should I do, then?” she asked, and Deb talked to her earnestly, explaining how she believed Helena would react to any type of pretence of intimacy between them. They talked for a while before Deb asked her a question she hadn’t been expecting.

 

“Do you like her, like her?” Deb asked, and Myka looked at her for a moment before replying.

 

“Do I _like_ her, like her? What are we, in eighth grade?” Myka asked, with a raised eyebrow.

 

To her surprise and delight, Deb actually blushed a little.

 

“Come on, Myka. You know what I mean. You’re not totally straight, and she is totally hot. So, are you interested?” Deb asked, after Myka had snorted out a few laughs at her embarrassment.

 

“Yeah, I guess I do. She is really beautiful, and she’s smart – maybe even smarter than I am, and she’s sexy and charming and like, magnetic, almost, when she talks about something she cares about,” Myka said, and she let herself think about what Helena might be like. Would she be a good kisser? Of course she would. Not to generalise, but women tended to be better than men, and they paid attention to what you liked, instead of trying to dominate. Or maybe that had just been the way Sam kissed; it had been a while since Myka had kissed a guy.

 

“Okay. Well, I don’t think we need to talk about anything else, yet,” Deb said, and Myka nodded thoughtfully.

 

“Sure. Can I call you, Deb, if I have any questions?” Myka asked, and Deb nodded, smiling.

 

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for, Myka,” she said, and Myka wondered idly how she’d ever had the impression that Deb was cold or calculating. This woman was all warmth and she’d even embarrassed herself a little. That was nothing like the kind of poise Myka had come to expect from Deb and her colleagues in Washington. It did occur to her that maybe that was what she was being led to think – that the warmth and goofiness Deb had just displayed had been calculated to appeal to her – but Myka just didn’t think that way. _Couldn’t_ think that way, so she put the thought aside and got her things together before going home to get ready for dinner.

 

“Pete,” Myka said, pleading. “Will you please stop playing with my bra. I know it’s a little padded and that’s very exciting, but I am planning to put it on at some point,” Myka said, still wrapped in her bathrobe as Pete did his “Look, I’m Ophelia’ing your boobies,” joke. He was sitting on the end of her bed – at his own insistence – while she got ready for her sort-of date with Helena.

 

“Look, it’s been a while, okay, so I’ll take any action I can get,” Pete said, and Myka snorted.

 

“You’re such a slut, Pete Lattimer. How long has it been, actually?” she asked, drying her hair carefully with a towel.

 

“Okay, it’s actually been a day. But still. I haven’t met any new ladies in ages, and now you’re getting it on with the hot English lawyer chick and I’m going to be all alone,” he said with a pathetic sigh, followed by the actual sticking out of his bottom lip. Myka regarded him with one eyebrow up, sceptical, and he gave up eventually. She finished drying her hair and using a variety of products to calm it before putting it up in a simple twist, and then she banished Pete to the kitchen while she changed and put a little makeup on.

 

She sat with Pete for a few minutes, drumming her fingers on the table, and he put his hand over hers after a few moments.

 

“You really like her, don’t you?” he asked, and for once he was being totally sincere. She bit her lip.

 

“I don’t know, Pete. She’s different than I thought. At first I was just curious, but now – I’m starting to feel invested,” she confessed, and he nodded, his face creased up in thought.

 

“If she’s worth it, you’ll know. You always say you’re bad with people, but I’ve never seen you be wrong, not once,” he said, seriously. She smiled.

 

“What about Sam?” she asked quietly, and he smiled sadly.

 

“You judged him right. You just fell in love anyway,” he said, with a shrug.

 

She was at the restaurant a few minutes early, a habit she’d never been able to break. She ordered a glass of wine and waited, thinking about the woman who she was about to spend the evening with. Helena had slept around, okay, but other than that – which was pretty much explainable by the fact that she wanted sex but she didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to hurt her, the way her husband had done - she could be a blueprint for Myka’s perfect woman. She was smart. She had charisma in spades. She was beautiful, she wasn’t apologetic about her sexuality or her intelligence, and she was confident and articulate. They hadn’t spoken too much about literature but Myka was pretty convinced that they probably had a lot in common where that was concerned.

 

When she walked in, exactly on time, Helena was dressed up in a suit with a silk waistcoat and dress shirt. She kissed Myka’s hand and told her she looked beautiful. Predictably, Myka blushed at the compliment, but she was able to return it, because Helena really did look fantastic. The food arrived almost magically and they ate quickly, talking about weather and traffic and other small talk topics before Myka told Helena what she was thinking. That she didn’t know Helena well enough to take this kind of step. She hadn’t expected Helena to come up with the solution she did – a weekend at her childhood home in New Hampshire. They were on a private jet so quickly that Myka felt like her head was spinning. She slept on the way there, tired from the strange week she’d had, and after transferring to a car, they arrived at a huge dark building in the early hours of the next morning. Myka could barely see when she got there, taking the time only to go to the bathroom and half-strip before she fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka meets Helena's family and makes a decision

* * *

 

The following morning, Myka woke disoriented and confused. It took a few minutes before she was even able to determine where she was. She suddenly remembered the night before and wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into. She sat up, blinking and pulling her glasses from the bag next to the bed, the room leaping into sharp focus. It was a nice enough guest room, decorated in violet or lilac – Myka wasn’t sure which. It didn’t seem like the kind of guest room a man would have decorated, but it also didn’t seem like it was Helena’s style. Maybe her father had paid someone to remodel the place? Myka pulled up the blackout blind, wincing at the bright light. The view was stupendous. Her room was overlooking a huge garden, but not a decorative one. It looked like a vegetable and herb garden, and Myka heartily approved. There was so much land in the country that was just decorative, and while flowers were pretty enough, a vegetable garden could feed a family for the price of the seeds and water, with luck.

 

Outside of the garden was a huge lawn and a little further away there was a huge pond, verging on a lake, really, that had ducks and geese and all sorts of other birds floating on its surface. The whole picture was scenic and beautiful and belonged on a postcard, as far as Myka was concerned. She looked at it for a few more minutes before gathering her clothes and making her way to the bathroom to use the facilities and shower. It was an hour later when she felt human again, her contacts in and her hair tamed, at least a little. She made her way down the huge wooden staircase, following her nose to a large table on a patio outside. There was coffee, juice, pastries, fruit salad and all manner of other breakfast foods. She encountered no-one, to her surprise, because there were clearly people working to get breakfast ready for her and Helena and whoever else might be here. She sat on the patio eating a chocolate Danish, looking out at the same pond she’d seen from her room. The vegetable garden was off to her left, and to her right there was a line of huge trees that looked like they might be hiding a tennis court or a swimming pool. The view was beautiful, nothing like her parents’ apartment over the bookstore, which had been cramped and had no space whatsoever for greenery of any kind. Growing up here would have been… like some sort of utopia. How could someone who lived in these sorts of surroundings really understand the lives of ordinary people, to the extent that they would be able to lead the country fairly? Surely Helena would be biased towards the rich, towards the people who grew up like she did and thought as she did?

 

Just as she thought that, she heard Helena approaching.

 

“Good morning,” Helena said, and her voice was low and husky. It was very attractive, as was the woman herself. She was dressed more casually than Myka had seen her so far, in jeans and a t-shirt with a loose blue shirt on top. Myka greeted her, watching her silently as she served herself some of the fruit salad. Helena looked back at her before asking what she was thinking. Myka gestured at their surroundings and made some sort of comment about Helena’s family, how they were all so rich that they must be in politics.

 

Helena responded with good humour, saying that she understood why Myka might think that way. She explained her time in LA, how she’d voluntarily worked with those who couldn’t help themselves, like the guy who’d become her friend, a homeless man with schizophrenia. Myka couldn’t understand what it was about Helena that made her, Myka, make the kind of assumptions she was making. That Helena couldn’t see other people’s unhappiness because of her privilege? What _was_ that? But Helena’s response – she was so impassioned, so truly compassionate, that Myka felt herself falling, a little, in that moment. Helena Wells was the real deal.

 

They went riding after finishing their breakfast, and Myka felt her heart lift. It had been a long time – before college – since she’d been riding. She had loved it then, and she loved it now. And Helena was beautiful, her hair tucked up under her helmet. She should have looked stupid but she was breath-taking. Myka tried to concentrate on her riding, finding it a little difficult at first, but as her muscles responded quickly to the familiar movements of the horse under her, she began to enjoy herself immensely. After their ride, they separated to shower and change before having a small lunch. It was just after lunch that Helena’s father, Charles Wells, appeared.

 

Myka didn’t know what to make of the man at first. He was loud, sweaty, and seemed quite the opposite of his elegant daughter. His accent was the same as Helena’s, but his voice boomed around the mansion, filling every corner, it seemed. When he hugged Myka she was quite taken aback. He smelled of sweat and expensive cologne, and he held her so tightly she wondered, after a moment, if he was trying to smother her. She heard Helena say something about scaring her and Charles released Myka with a smile that was so wide and guileless that Myka couldn’t help but return it, bemused. Something about the man made her feel that he was entirely genuine, and he said something about not holding back when he was with his children, especially not his little Hell’s Bells. Myka smiled widely at that, even as Helena’s cheeks coloured slightly.

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Helena’s brother Charles, a Senator, showed up a little later with his girlfriend Amanda. Myka was sure she’d seen Amanda before somewhere, but she couldn’t quite place the woman. They had a wonderful dinner where they chatted about all sorts of nonsense, somehow managing not to make Myka feel left out at any point. Truth be told, for the majority of the evening she was trying not to burst into tears of happiness. This family – these people – this was what she would have dreamed of as a child, had she even known that this kind of family existed. Her childhood had been full of cold silences and awkwardness and fear. The whole household lived in fear of Warren Bering’s moods, and Myka tried to spend as much time away from home as she could, taking up running and fencing and shooting and basketball and literally anything that took her as far away from home as possible for as long as possible. That was how she’d ended up with such a strong body, and she’d kept that practice up throughout her life. But she thought now that if she’d had a family like this, she might have ended up morbidly obese because she never would have wanted to leave the table, never would have wanted to leave the embrace of these people. There was no need for worry with this family. These were the people you went to when you wanted to get away from worry. It was intoxicating and Myka wanted to stay here forever. And in the middle of it all was Helena. The woman she’d judged as being, well – a slut. A rich woman who did whatever she wanted without worrying about the consequences. And now when she looked at Helena she saw a courageous, charismatic woman with seemingly unlimited compassion and a drive to help others. A woman who could be President, if things went the way Deb Stanley seemed to believe they would. Helena was drinking whiskey, laughing at something her brother was saying, her head thrown back and her eyes flashing with amusement. She was beautiful, and Myka was enraptured by every word, every movement. She’d misjudged Helena, clearly, and now she couldn’t look away from the woman. By the end of the evening Myka was a little drunk, having overindulged in the expensive and smooth whisky that Charles Senior had been doling out far too generously all evening. Helena took her outside to the garden, where they stood for a moment in silence.

 

Helena must have asked her what she thought of the Wells family, and Myka replied that it must have been so wonderful for Helena to have a father who loved her so unabashedly. Helena seemed surprised; she had met Warren Bering before, Myka knew. But Myka also knew what kind of a show her father could put on. But the Warren Bering she knew was cold and distant and somehow smothering at the same time, his influence leaking through her childhood home like a noxious gas. Myka stared into a fountain-like water feature that had some sort of fish swimming around in it. They looked like painted liquid metal, so beautiful that they were mesmerising. Helena said something about how she was sorry that Myka’s childhood hadn’t been as wonderful as hers, and Myka found herself blurting out old hurts, like how her father used to treat Tracy like some sort of porcelain princess who could do no wrong, but Myka like a pariah regardless of what she achieved, how hard she worked. Helena was sympathetic and sweet, and called Warren Bering a ‘bloke,’ something which Myka found hopelessly charming. She found herself gravitating towards Helena, pulled in by her effortless charm and charisma, and she was hard-pushed, in that moment, not to lurch forward and kiss Helena. She held herself back, however. She knew that if she did this she would have to be cool and calm, not acting on impulse and throwing herself at Helena drunkenly. Deb had been quite clear that she thought Myka would have to be the instigator for any physical relationship they might have, and that Helena would balk if it seemed that Myka wasn’t 100% certain. Being drunk was not the way to do this, if she did it at all. She pulled herself together and allowed Helena to lead her back to her room, where she once again half-stripped and fell asleep almost immediately, waking the next morning with her bra tangled around her left arm, almost cutting off the circulation. She’d also left her contact lenses in, and it took her a good ten minutes to remove them. She decided that today would be a day for her glasses, since her eyes were red enough as it was, even after several rounds of eye drops. It took her some time to collect herself enough that she was able to dress and go downstairs for breakfast, but once she got there she was pleased to see she wasn’t the last to wake. And everyone else, except for Helena and Charles Senior, looked as bad as she did. Helena quietly recommended drinking a non-diet cola along with a fatty breakfast to counteract the hangover, and Myka decided to take her advice. Myka hadn’t had a huge number of hangovers in her life, but Helena, according to the press, was out drinking on a regular basis and therefore would have much more experience with hangovers. Myka tried not to think about the fact that Helena’s escapades had been while she was accompanied by a slew of attractive women, given that Myka’s hair was a mess and she was wearing glasses and old, comfortable clothes because she couldn’t bear to put anything too tightly-fitted on this morning. (Her skin felt too tight as it was, without adding tight clothing into the mix. She silently swore off drinking Scotch, knowing that she’d probably break her oath before the end of the day.) Myka was the one that Helena had chosen to spend this weekend with, the one that she’d chosen as a likely candidate to be her wife. So glasses and hangover aside, she must have something to bring to the table, right? Even if she wasn’t a model or weathergirl or whatever Helena usually went for.

 

Charles Senior was in fine form, apparently unaffected by his overindulgence of the night before, and everything he said just increased Myka’s affection towards the man. He might be messy and sweaty and far, far too loud – especially when one had a hangover – but he was a dopey, affectionate mess of a man. Myka knew, then, what her decision on this whole thing was going to be. Because if Helena Wells was the woman Myka thought – the woman who truly loved this mess of a father – then she was a decent human being, and that was all that Myka really needed to know. She had half made the decision already, she knew. She’d just been waiting for some sort of confirmation on the kind of person Helena really was. And now she knew. Helena had been raised by this man, had grown up with this family. If she wasn’t a good person, she was the world’s best liar, and Myka couldn’t even conceive of that kind of duplicity. So the decision was made, and everything else that happened that day just reinforced her decision.

 

They played golf, laughing and making a complete hash of it at times, only Helena and Charles Junior actually playing the game well. Myka found her game improving as they went along, helped enormously by Helena teaching her how to rotate her hips and shoulders correctly to improve her swing. It felt like a romantic comedy; the love interest pressed against her for some transparent reason. However silly it seemed, however, Myka was unable to breathe with Helena pressed against her. It felt wonderful. It felt _right._ She had kissed more than a few women, but she had never really considered being with a woman as a serious option. She wasn’t sure if it was that, the softness of the body against her, that was so incredibly pleasant, or if it was just Helena that made her feel that way. In any case, she figured she had time to find out.

 

The rest of the day was a revelation. Myka had had friends and family around her; of course she had. Friends and co-workers and social interaction. But this? This easy camaraderie, the feeling that everyone here was a friend, that everyone in this group cared for everyone else, that she truly fitted here? She’d _never_ had that. She’d never laughed so hard or so freely. She was pretty sure that, regardless of how things went with Helena, this would be a weekend that she would remember for the rest of her life. It was the first time she’d felt this kind of unbridled happiness, this kind of easy joy, in the company of other people.

 

If she hadn’t already made up her mind, she would have later that afternoon, after their time at the golf club and their delicious lunch. The group split up when they got back to the house, Charles Senior retiring to his study to “work,” which Helena whispered was code for an afternoon nap, and Charlie and Amanda leaving to have a nap of their own. Whether adult or regular, Myka didn’t want to know.

 

She and Helena sat in the living room, a comfortable room with a large sofa. They drank some coffee and chatted for a while. Helena told Myka some stories about her youth, and Myka was really interested – she really was. She was also really, really full of good food and she slipped away into a deep sleep not long into Helena’s account of her rebellious years. When she woke a little later, she was wrapped in a blanket and Helena had taken the time to remove her glasses just in case she was uncomfortable. It was a sweet gesture, as was the blanket, and it warmed Myka. She was starting to feel mushy when she thought about Helena, and she’d met her only two days previous. It made her wonder how much worse she was going to get.

 

As soon as she was mostly awake, she and Helena went for a walk which ended in the stables, where Helena was soon stroking her horse, Moreau, who nuzzled her in response, clearly adoring the woman. Myka watched the way they interacted with a lump in her throat, and Helena said something beautiful about how much animals give to us, and Myka decided it was time to tell Helena that she’d made a decision. In the end, despite being sure that she would be cool and collected when she told Helena, she blurted it out, and in a way that made it seem like quite a different declaration.

 

“I think I want to do this. I want to be your wife.”

 

Helena stared at her for a moment, still stroking the mare’s long nose, before turning to look at her directly. She asked Myka if she was sure.

 

Myka was nervous, and began to pace back and forth, trying to articulate why she wanted to do this. Because it was out of character, she knew, for her to agree to something like this. Myka was a straight arrow and she didn’t do dishonesty. White lies, sure. But not something like this.

 

She wasn’t sure which part of her speech did it, whether it was talking about how her life had been derailed by Sam, how she had allowed herself to be derailed by Sam. That she loved being an elementary school teacher but that she wanted to do something _more_. That she’d seen what Washington did to her father, and she didn’t want that to happen to Helena. She saw the moment, however, when Helena realised that she meant this, that she’d made the decision herself and wasn’t being coerced. She saw the unbridled joy on Helena’s face, and she expected, in that moment, for Helena to kiss her. Myka certainly _wanted_ Helena to kiss her. But Helena didn’t. She held herself back. Myka laughed to herself. Clearly Deb had been right on the money. If there was to be a physical relationship between them, it would be up to Myka to initiate it. And right now, she wanted to do nothing else more. Helena led her right to where she wanted to be, asking if Myka was straight, asking if she was comfortable with the pretence they would have to undertake. Myka said something, she wasn’t sure what, before taking Helena’s hands and pulling her a little closer, sliding her hand from the back of Helena’s arm to the back of her neck before kissing her gently. It was a short kiss, a promise of a kiss only, but for that moment it was enough. Myka was floored by it, by how much she felt in such a simple touching of lips. She felt the kind of electricity between them that she’d read about but never quite experienced. Her relationship with Sam had been perfectly satisfactory, they were attracted to one another, they had an active sex life. But this… it was something else, something more raw, with a depth of emotion that Myka had not expected. And god, she wanted to explore it, here, on the floor of the stables if necessary. But she had a part to play, here, and she took Deb Stanley’s advice and played it cool, walking off, deliberately cocky, throwing a remark over her shoulder about how it seemed like Helena was the one who needed the practice. The stunned silence behind her made her chuckle silently, and she walked back towards the main house with a spring in her step.  This was going to be interesting.

 

The evening passed quickly, with Helena off on the telephone for much of it, speaking to Deb Stanley firstly, followed by Claudia and then her friend Steve. Myka took some time to speak to Pete, her best friend, to tell him what she’d decided. He knew what Helena’s team had proposed, since Myka had needed to talk it over with someone. Who better than a Secret Service Agent, however? Pete was trustworthy and he cared about Myka first. If he had thought this was a bad idea, she might even have changed her mind. Pete, however, thought no such thing.

 

“It’s not the world’s worst idea, Mykes,” he said, thoughtfully, the sounds of his chewing making Myka slightly nauseous. “You haven’t done much since Sam passed. I know this seems like a crazy idea, but really, you’d be doing something amazing. And I know you well enough to know that you’re attracted to her at least.”

 

“Yeah, I am,” Myka said, sounding slightly dreamy. “She’s something else, you know? She has this magnetism thing; I can’t even explain it. And I don’t mean sexually. Although there is definitely something really attractive about her. But what I mean is, when she tells me why she’s doing all this, when she explains any of it to me – I feel like I’m being pulled towards her, like I get swept up with her. She’s incredible, Pete.”

 

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and then a whistle.

 

“Wow, Mykes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you like this. Not even with Sam.”

 

And there it was. She felt like she should feel bad, like she should feel something about the fact that Helena made her feel things that Sam never had. Even without touching Myka, she made her feel things that Sam hadn’t. It didn’t mean she hadn’t loved Sam – of course she had – but it was a whole different kind of love. Whatever it was that was building with her and Helena, it wasn’t even in the same ballpark. Myka chatted to Pete for a while longer and then went to join the rest of the Wells family in the living room.

 

The evening was nothing spectacular, a repeat of the night before, really. But Myka felt at home, and being with this group of people was the reason. There was good natured “slagging” as the Wellses named it, Charles ribbing Helena about her many public appearances with various women, and Helena ribbing him back about the fact that he was just envious. Charles headed that one off quickly by raising an eyebrow and indicating Amanda next to him, who was, next to Helena, probably the most stunning woman Myka had ever seen. Even Helena had to concede that one. Myka even felt comfortable when Helena left her behind while she spoke with Charles outside. Amanda and Charles Senior made Myka feel quite at home and not at all uncomfortable. When Charles and Amanda had to leave, Myka was genuinely regretful. Whatever happened next, this had been a wonderful weekend, one she would never forget. Something as simple as playing Scrabble had been transformed from a way to pass the time into a warm and hilarious experience, with Myka finally winning against Helena, much to the glee of the others. The truth was, Myka had never felt this way before, and didn’t know if she ever would again. And a large part of that was Helena, smiling, laughing, watching Myka from under lowered eyelashes.

 

It was midnight, Myka thought, when Helena indicated with a look that she wanted to go to bed, and Myka went with her, after a hug from Charles Senior. She had thought about how to go about this relationship since her conversation with Deb a few days before, and had decided that being firm and clear about what she was doing was the way forward. So she asked Helena to come into her room to talk. She first of all told Helena that she was going to need them both to meet with Warren Bering before going to California. And then she brought up the physicality of their relationship. It was a risky move, and she thought that Helena might balk at “practising” touches and embraces. But Helena, a little puzzled and clearly reluctant, went along with her idea. They practised holding one another in various poses until they found one that felt right. Helena, in front of Myka, with Myka’s arms around her waist, and one of Helena’s hands hooked over Myka’s arm. It was casual and felt right, with Helena’s temple just next to Myka’s mouth. She had a sudden desire to kiss Helena, to turn the woman around in her arms and find out what a real kiss would be like. But she held back, instead dipping her head and kissing the back of Helena’s neck. Helena jumped, and Myka grinned, but quickly rearranged her features into a neutral look. Helena apologised, and Myka suggested that they just hold one another for a minute. They arranged themselves, still rather awkwardly, into an embrace, with Myka’s arms around Helena’s waist and Helena’s making their way around Myka’s neck. Helena’s head was resting against in the juncture of Myka’s neck and shoulder, and Myka was unable to stop her hands from moving, soothing Helena, rubbing at the back of her neck to try to relax her. Helena’s body remained almost rigid, however, and Myka asked her why she was finding this all so hard.

 

“I know. I just – I wasn’t really ready for all this to happen so quickly, I don’t think,” Helena said, and as she spoke her mouth moved against the skin of Myka’s neck. It felt wonderful, and Myka had to suppress a shiver. She told Helena that she didn’t bite, and then cursed herself, because then it was all she could think about. Leaving light marks on Helena’s perfectly white skin, nipping at the freckles on her chest and neck… her mind began to run wild and she had to rein in her libido once again.

 

They stayed there for a little while, chatting softly while in one another’s arms, talking about where they liked or disliked being touched, and Myka told Helena that she thought they should sleep in the same bed, to get comfortable with one another, used to being in each other’s space. Helena agreed, dubiously once again, but she still agreed. As she was about to move away from Myka to change, Myka took a breath and asked if they should practice kissing. She knew it was too much as soon as she said it, and they eventually, after a hesitant conversation, decided to leave any kissing until the ceremony. It might not look practised, but it should at least look sincere, Myka reasoned – at least from her own side. Because there was little she wanted to do more than kiss Helena.

 

Their night’s sleep was peaceful and free of awkwardness. Myka simply put her arms around Helena and, as soon as Helena’s breathing evened out, she followed her into a deep sleep. It was refreshing and comfortable in a way that it shouldn’t have been, not for two people who barely knew one another at all. But Myka decided not to question it. It was what it was, for now. If things worked out, they had plenty of time to explore any possibilities that existed between them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding day; this time from Myka's perspective

* * *

The following day was a day of highs and lows that Myka hadn’t entirely expected when she decided to do this thing with Helena. Firstly, she hadn’t given much thought to what happened after the ‘wedding’. California was a vague concept and not yet an actual thing that was going to happen. And she hadn’t given adequate thought to her father and how he would react. She would have done much better, she realised later, to wait until her mom was visiting her dad and then skype them from California. First of all, though, they had to get ready and leave the Wells’ home in New Hampshire and head back to Washington. And that was the first of the unexpected lows. Charles Wells Sr. hugged her and welcomed her to the family, and when they got in the car to leave, Myka found herself inexplicably in tears. She tried to explain it, the words coming out disjointedly, but Helena pulled her close, telling her that the last few days had been emotional, but that Myka really could consider that she had a home here, in New Hampshire. Charles Wells meant what he said. Myka let some of the unexpected emotion out, feeling safe in Helena’s arms, and she didn’t try to move until they arrived at the airport. The flight was short and taken up mostly with telephone calls. When Myka mentioned to Helena that she had spoken to Pete, Helena was curious and asked who Pete was. Myka explained and saw Helena’s eyes narrow in suspicion. She realised what Helena was thinking and laughed so hard she snorted a little, explaining that Pete was much more likely to be attracted to Myka if she was some sort of breakfast pastry, and that their relationship was entirely platonic. And Myka told Helena in no uncertain terms that she’d agreed to fidelity and intended to honour that promise. Helena held Myka’s gaze as she, too, confirmed that she would not be continuing her old habits.

 

The wedding preparation was a whirlwind, Myka and Helena being separated off into different rooms for people to mess with their hair and dress them in whatever Deb had decided was appropriate. Myka was to wear a simple olive green dress with some ballet pumps, to even out the height difference between her and Helena, she assumed, and after some attempts at fussing with her hair, the hairdresser simply used some sort of potion or another to make it look a little sleeker than usual. It was just then that there was a knock on the door and Pete entered, looking a little scruffy in jeans and a t-shirt. He was, however, clean shaven and his hair was tidy, for a change. Myka gave him a hug, pleased that he, at least, was here to support her.

 

“You look amazing, Mykes,” he said, and the awe in his voice told her that, for once, he was being entirely sincere. She fought the blush that was rising on her cheeks and smiled, gesturing for him to precede her out the door. They were on a tight schedule, after all. There was a small meeting in the corridor, Pete saying hello to Helena and a tall man with flashing blue eyes who Myka assumed was Steve. They all exchanged greetings and introductions before Deb screamed something from down the hall and the men fled. Myka’s attention, however, was not on the guys, nor had it been since she’d set foot outside of the room in which she’d changed. Her eyes were on Helena. Her hair, simply loose about her shoulders, but sleek and dark and just begging for Myka to run her fingers through it. Her lips, glossy and full, and her dress – it was such a simple dress, but on Helena it looked like a ballgown. She was so incredibly beautiful that Myka did stop breathing for long enough that she felt uncomfortable and had to take a deep breath. She knew Helena was beautiful. But like this, natural and almost shy, she was stunning. Her eyes were dark and full of uncertainty, but she, too, was staring – at Myka. They moved a little closer and when they were a breath away from one another, Myka could have sworn that this was it, that _now_ they would kiss. But Deb Stanley, damn her, interrupted, yelling for the brides. Myka smiled ruefully, holding out her hand to Helena, and they went to face the music.

 

The wedding itself was a blur. Myka was hard-pressed to remember any part of it other than their kiss. That, she couldn’t forget. Because it was just a kiss. Right? Not a life-changing moment. Just a kiss with the woman she was fake-marrying. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like the way breathing felt. The way flying felt in a dream. The way that laughing felt when you can’t stop. Myka didn’t want to stop, and neither did Helena. But they weren’t alone, and they weren’t even a thing, never mind a real relationship, so it didn’t matter what Myka thought or felt in that moment. Kissing was just a part of this necessary deception.

 

Pete gave her a huge hug afterwards, saying nothing except ‘congratulations’, but she could tell that he was pleased for her, if a little worried, still. And he made sure to say something to Helena about them never finding the body if she hurt Myka, which made Myka roll her eyes so hard that she almost lost a contact lens. Deb came to hug her, then, telling her with a smile that she thought this could be the start of something amazing. Myka didn’t quite know what to make of that, so she just smiled. Time would tell, right?

 

Myka and Helena had lunch with Steve and Pete after the wedding, and while it was at times a little awkward with Pete feeling he had to be all ‘big-brother’ and protect Myka, even though he’d been encouraging her to do exactly this and marry Helena, it was generally nice. They made a quick pit stop at Helena’s office to change before meeting Warren Bering, and they were pleased to find that their wedding photographs and certificate were already there. Myka leafed through the pictures and was quite taken aback by how much in love they both looked. In the picture taken just after their kiss, Myka could barely recognise herself. She looked awestruck.

 

Their meeting with Warren Bering was less pleasant than the rest of their day, to say the least. He put on a good show, as he always did, for Helena and those around them, ordering champagne and caviar (even though Myka did tell him that they’d just literally come from lunch). He waited until Helena was in the bathroom before launching into a diatribe about how stupid Myka was, how he wouldn’t let this stand and they’d just get this ‘marriage’ annulled (he actually did the quotation marks, and Myka was hard-pressed not to stab him with a dessert fork for his behaviour). His relentless bullying, however, weighed down on her and she was on the verge of giving in, her whole body trembling, her eyes downcast. And that was when Helena came back.

 

Helena was magnificent, taking charge and telling him, subtly and without saying it out loud, that Warren needed to back off, that his opinion didn’t matter here. She was perfectly polite, polished and devastating. Even Warren Bering couldn’t stand up to her, and he swallowed and smiled, waving them off with what, to others, would have looked like a kindly smile. To Myka, it looked like a grimace.

 

Myka managed to last until they were inside the car and away from prying eyes before she began sobbing, and as she had the previous day, Helena held her tightly, as if she was precious. Myka felt safe enough to just cry herself out, something she didn’t think she’d done since Sam died, and never with anyone else present. The car had long since stopped when she finally calmed down, and Helena was as courteous and sweet as ever, giving Myka tissues and taking her upstairs in the building to her private bathroom to clean up her face. As she stood in the unfamiliar bathroom looking at her tear-stained face in the mirror, she acknowledged to herself that no-one had ever stood up for her that way before. Not her mother against her father, not her sister, not her friends at school and college, and not Sam. He had ‘worked’ her father, as he put it, playing on his vanities and agreeing with him about Myka’s alleged faults but diverting Warren’s attention elsewhere so that the explosions of temper were aimed elsewhere. To have someone simply stand there and say that they wouldn’t allow Myka to be treated this way – it was new. It was intoxicating. Helena Wells was her wife, her wife who had stood up to Warren Bering on her behalf. Myka needed some time away from the woman otherwise they would be consummating the marriage on Helena’s desk very shortly.

 

Luckily Myka had packing to do, another thing she hadn’t quite realised would be necessary, so she was able to excuse herself and head back to her apartment to begin doing just that while Helena took care of things on her end. Pete came to join her after a while, and while his contribution to the packing was to tape packing peanuts to his earlobes, crowing about wearing earrings, the work was done in fairly short order. Myka had never been a person who needed things around her – she only needed books. And there was no way all of those books were going to make it with her today. Myka packed them up to be shipped later, however, and after arranging a time for Helena to pick her up, she packed a small bag of essentials for the flight. She wasn’t a nervous flyer as such; she just felt the need to be prepared.

 

The flight itself was long, tedious, and tiring. It was comfortable because it was first class, but Myka was bored stupid after a few hours. Helena had succumbed to exhaustion and had entirely passed out, and had in fact been drooling on herself for the last portion of the flight. Myka discreetly placed a napkin on her shirt to soak up the remainder, chuckling quietly to herself before returning to her book.

 

She was so exhausted that she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings on their way to Helena’s house – which was to be her house, now. But when they stepped inside, she was stunned. It was beautiful, looked horrendously expensive but also lived in and comfortable. It had an open plan living room and kitchen, with French doors down one side that led to a pool that Myka would have been very excited about, had she been less tired, and down a corridor there were the bedrooms and bathrooms and a study. Myka was surprised to find out that Helena had bought the house with her own money, not with money from her family. Her new wife was interesting, and had all sorts of ideas about earning her own way and not just falling back on her family’s money.

 

They had a brief discussion about the sleeping arrangements, with Myka having to firmly tell Helena that they should stay in the same room for the appearance of things. Helena acquiesced, again reluctantly, worriedly, but Myka was fairly certain they wouldn’t have to have this discussion again any time soon. Myka began to unpack her clothing in the ridiculously huge closet, laughing as she realised she wouldn’t even half-fill the space that Helena had given her. She was far from done when Claudia Donovan arrived, half-crushing Myka in her overly-enthusiastic embrace. Myka was a little taken aback, it had to be said, by the redheaded campaign manager. She’d expected the girl to look a little more mature, to be a little more responsible. But Claudia looked like a punk kid with a red streak in her hair and eyeliner that pretty much told anyone looking to fuck off.  Myka went with it, however, because she trusted Helena’s judgement so far, so why doubt this girl? They chatted and felt each other out a little, and Myka was satisfied that Claudia was smart and loyal to Helena. However, she was so tired that she wasn’t really able to glean much more than that, and eventually Claudia seemed to realise that, beating a hasty retreat and saying she’d come back first thing. 

 

They went to get ready for bed, Helena disrobing on auto-pilot, it appeared. Myka found that she couldn’t look away. Helena had stripped down to her underwear in seconds, and it was red. _Red_. The contrast with her skin and her black hair was stark and Myka knew she was staring when Helena suddenly looked at her and apologised for forgetting she was there. Myka just smiled, however. She couldn’t accept an apology for Helena standing there looking like that. Helena muttered something under her breath and went into the bathroom for a minute, coming back out wearing a camisole and a pair of shorts in some sort of satiny material that made Myka’s throat go dry. She could tell that Helena was looking at her smugly, so she grabbed her own night clothes and went into the bathroom, changing and brushing her teeth, and when she came out in her own shorts she practically heard Helena’s jaw drop. Myka’s legs were one of her best features; long, shapely and well-muscled. She worked hard to keep them that way. She smiled to herself as she saw Helena practically dive under the covers to avoid looking her in the eye. When she herself was under the covers, however, she leaned over and kissed Helena gently, to say thank you for what she’d done, standing up to Warren Bering. Helena smiled at her beatifically, and Myka pulled Helena to her, wrapping her wife up in her arms. It was her wedding night, and while there might not be any of the typical wedding night activities, she would damn well hold her wife while they slept. She kissed Helena’s hair and drifted off with a smile on her face.

 

*

 

The following morning, Myka woke slowly, sensing Helena’s eyes on her. She kissed Helena’s neck without any real thought, and wished her a good morning. They talked quietly for a few moments, Myka thanking Helena for standing up to her father the day before. Helena said some things about how Warren should be proud of his daughter, how Myka was amazing, and Myka… well. She lost her careful control, the control that she and Deb had spoken about, the control that would stop Helena from running away. She lost it completely and she kissed Helena. After a few traded kisses, Helena drew back, saying that Myka didn’t have to do this, that Myka wasn’t to feel she had to do this. Myka told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was doing what she wanted. And when Helena began to respond? She lost her control completely, and in a few minutes they would have been… Helena’s hands were inching across the skin of her abdomen and upwards, Helena was straddling her. It was beautiful, it was hot and it was exactly what Myka shouldn’t have been doing. She should have been playing it cool but there was no way to be cool in the face of this… whatever the hell this was between them. Because cool couldn’t fight an inferno.

 

Apparently Claudia Donovan had some sort of sixth sense, however, telling her when people somewhere were about to have too much fun. The doorbell rang and Helena was gone, muttering under her breath. When Helena was gone, Myka grabbed the pillow next to her and put it over her face, screaming into it in pure frustration.

 

After her frustration had abated to a level that would allow her to appear in public without punching anyone, Myka went into the bathroom, washed her face, and changed into some loose, comfortable clothes. Her skin felt like it was on fire with desire. She went out to the living area to face her tormentor, Claudia Donovan, and she plastered on a smile.

 

They ate breakfast pastries, Myka musing that this last weekend had contained enough indulgences in the form of food to last her for months. She needed to get back into some sort of diet and exercise regime. She drank coffee and she listened to Claudia outline a vague schedule for the next few months. As Claudia carried on speaking, Myka noticed Helena’s eyes on her, clearly paying no attention whatsoever to Claudia, and it made her grin. Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one affected by their spontaneous almost-tryst.

 

When Claudia left, Myka concentrated hard on keeping her cool, and sent Helena to get ready, even adjusting her collar once she was ready. It was time for them to meet Helena’s staff, and she wouldn’t allow Helena to look anything but her best.

 

When they arrived at Helena’s headquarters, Myka took a moment to bolster Helena’s confidence.  Helena was a little taken aback, it seemed, both at Myka’s ability to sense her nerves, and at her belief in Helena. When Helena reminded her, incredulous, that she had said a lesbian would never be President, she smiled.

 

“I did, but I believed in you as soon as I asked you why and you told me. There’s something about you, Helena, that inspires people. You’re smart, you believe in what you’re saying. And somehow, regardless of all the things in your way – in our way – I believe that you’re going to get there, to the White House. I believe that you will do it all, and that you’ll change the US, you’ll change the world, and for the better. So go in there and give them hell, honey.”

 

Helena stared at her for a long moment, tears filling her eyes, and leaned over to kiss Myka, saying words about gratitude and how lucky she was, but all Myka could think was that this woman had kissed her, this woman was her wife, this woman might be her future. That strange liquid hope was filling her and she was lost upon its current. Especially after hearing Helena’s spontaneous speech to her staff, about the hopes she had for California and for the whole country. Which is perhaps why she, once again, lost her composure when they were alone. Claudia had, before her extremely long but incredibly detailed presentation on her plans for the campaign, showed them the glass walls she’d had installed in Helena’s office, with glass that was opaque or clear, depending on what setting one used. Myka decided that opaque was her particular choice. Especially since her mind and body had decided, quite independent of her, to make out with Helena and actually try to have sex with her in her brand new office. Sex. For the first time. In Helena’s office. With her staff not ten feet away. _Sex._

 

Helena, luckily, stopped the fun in its tracks by telling Myka that if they were to do this, she wanted to give Myka the first time she deserved, with a bed and perhaps some romance involved. Myka couldn’t be angry in the face of that sort of rejection, if it could even be called that. So she left the room without further ado, firstly finding the bathroom so that she could take a moment for herself. She looked at her flushed face in the mirror, silently chiding herself for practically throwing herself at Helena. She hadn’t even slept with a woman before. What was she thinking? She made a mental note to look into how best to make love to a woman; she had a fair idea, of course, but she wanted to research the subject. It was in her nature to want to be prepared. But not yet, dammit, she told her reflection. Not yet. Helena wasn’t ready for that sort of step, even if Myka’s libido apparently was. It had only been a few days since they’d met. Less than a week. It had taken Myka nearly two months to sleep with Sam, and even then it hadn’t been like this. This intensity, almost desperation, for Helena’s touch.

 

She regained her equilibrium and went to find Claudia.  The incredibly energetic younger woman was throwing out orders like she was Oprah giving out free cars.  Myka got her attention and quirked an eyebrow in the direction of Claudia’s office.  Claudia nodded and followed her into the small goldfish bowl of an office in the centre of Helena’s headquarters.

 

“So, Helena’s wifey, what can I do for you?” Claudia asked flatly, all of her bonhomie of before gone. It took Myka a moment to adjust. She took a breath.

 

“So, you don’t trust me?” Myka asked, leaning back in her chair, studying her fingernails intently, attempting to look bored. Claudia’s jaw tightened.

 

“Helena is my best friend. She’s my big sister from another mister, and I won’t put up with anyone or anything who fucks with her,” Claudia said, her eyes narrowed. “She’s rich and beautiful and that’s a very attractive package for a gold-digger.”

 

Myka laughed.

 

“Are you kidding me? If I was a gold-digger, Claudia, do you think I would have been an elementary school teacher? Do you know how much I was paid? My dad is the Speaker of the House. I could have asked him for a job at any of the largest firms in the US, and I would have got it. He has influence. I would have taken a job at some finance or oil firm with a huge paycheck and an empty title and I would have had huge amounts of money and nothing but time. If I was a gold-digger, Claudia, I would have taken the NDA I signed when Deb’s people approached me, and I would have taken it to Walter Sykes right away. I’m sure his people would pay a lot for evidence that Helena’s new wife was really a set-up to make her look better to the public. But you know what? I didn’t do any of this for the money. I met Helena, and she made me feel something. And no, not what you’re thinking right now,” she said, with a chastising look at Claudia, whose mind had clearly gone straight to sex, judging from her smirk. “She made me feel hope. She really believes what she says, Claudia. And then her family – they made me fall in love with them. Helena’s the real deal and I want to come along for the ride. I want her to win this election and the next. I want to see what she’ll do for the world. You can believe me, or not. I don’t really care. But I would like you to think of some ideas as to how I might be able to do something with my time that will help Helena and help the campaign. I’m new in town; I don’t know how things work. I don’t know who to talk to or how to get things done. And you do. So help me to help Helena, to help the campaign.”

 

Claudia looked at her for a long moment, silent and considering.

 

“I wish Steve was here,” she said, almost to herself. “He always knows when people are lying.”

 

“Steve likes me,” Myka said. “Unless he was lying. I don’t have his talent.”

 

Claudia looked at her for another minute, silent and brooding.

 

“Fine. Let’s do it. I have a few ideas,” Claudia said, turning to a filing cabinet behind her and pulling out a giant dossier.

 

She had more than a few ideas; Claudia was impressive, to say the least. Myka looked through the dossier, considering each option carefully as Claudia alternated between shouting at her staff and typing ridiculously fast on a number of laptops that were strewn across her desk, apparently haphazardly. Myka suspected, however, that Claudia Donovan didn’t do anything haphazardly.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka makes a mess and does her best to clean it up.

* * *

 

It was past lunchtime when Myka looked up, watching Claudia eating a huge sandwich, avocado and crayfish and salad with some sort of dressing. Her stomach rumbled and she realised that Helena hadn’t emerged from her office, either. Myka asked, politely, where she could find food and drink, and Claudia pointed her to a small kitchen that held an impressive amount of food. Myka put together some sandwiches and hot drinks for Helena and for herself, going to the office and disturbing Helena, who was reading some of the emails that came in to the campaign. When Myka realised the content of those emails, however, she was incensed. Helena shouldn’t have to read that kind of trash, and Myka asked her to ignore them in future, encouraging her to have someone else read them or count them, at the very least, but otherwise to ignore them. Helena agreed, and Myka was warmed by the grateful smile Helena bestowed upon her afterwards. This was what she was here for, this was why she wanted to be here. Helena could do everything she said she would; she could be Governor and then President. But she would need Myka’s help, assuming they had the kind of personal relationship that Myka hoped they would – the kind where Myka was a real support to Helena. She had always been annoyed at the way she had ended up living in Sam’s shadow and her father’s shadow, but for Helena, it somehow felt right, like it was where she was supposed to be. And she didn’t mind in the least.

 

They went home a couple of hours later, both exhausted and thrown off by the time difference. Myka had her first swim in the pool, hardly able to believe that she was here, that this was her life now. It wasn’t just the surroundings, which were beautiful, but the company. Helena was stunning and larger than life and Myka was a little giddy to be here. She felt out of control, she realised, as she was swimming lengths, feeling her muscles work to propel her through the water. She felt out of control because she was here in California only days after meeting Helena Wells. She was married to Helena Wells, for Christ’s sake. And she wanted the woman, like, a lot. None of this was like her. Myka Bering didn’t do impulsive, but this whole thing was the very definition of the word.

 

As she got out of the pool, she felt Helena’s eyes on her, saw her standing slack-jawed as the water dripped from her body. It made her smile, and she went to shower quickly before coming back in to eat the takeout food that Helena had ordered.

 

When she rounded the corner to the living area, she found Helena watching a campaign advertisement for Walter Sykes. It was fairly horrifying, painting immigrants as rapists and murderers who were here to steal jobs (while simultaneously being too lazy to work, of course) from good honest (white) Americans. It only steeled Myka’s resolve, her desire to make sure that Helena was the next Governor, rather than this idiot. She used to think that minorities like gay people, people with disabilities, non-white minorities – that they would all understand each other’s struggles and stand together. It only made sense, really. But Walter Sykes, a disabled American man, was spending his life trying to bring down other minorities. It made no sense to Myka; even less so now that she was fairly sure that she was bisexual in a much bigger way than she’d ever realised. That made her part of a minority group, and she didn’t like the way that group was treated. If nothing else, she hoped that by marrying Helena, she was bringing attention to the LGBT community, showing that they existed, even in politics.

 

Their evening was quiet – both were exhausted by all of the travel, by the time change, and the first day of campaign work. Myka wrapped herself around Helena when they got into bed, her arm slung across Helena’s waist and her other arm worming its way underneath her head to pull her close. It was remarkably comfortable, but as she was about to close her eyes, Helena, once again, told Myka that she didn’t have to “do this,” meaning cuddling, sleeping together. Myka found herself a little put out, this time, thinking she’d already answered this question. Maybe it was that Helena didn’t want her? She started to withdraw, physically and emotionally, as she wondered if she’d been reading Helena wrong this whole time. It was perhaps that worry that caused her to answer in a much more tetchy fashion than she had before. She told Helena off, saying that if she didn’t want to do this, she wouldn’t. She also said that there was nothing to stop them having a relationship if they wanted, and was deeply amused to see the look of panic on Helena’s face in response. She made it clear that she didn’t want that – yet – but that she was perfectly comfortable sharing a bed if Helena was. Helena calmed down, after that, and turned to face Myka, her arm across her waist. Despite the closeness, despite Helena’s breath on her face, Myka fell asleep almost immediately.

 

The following few days were busy, with Helena in meetings of all sorts, some videos for the campaign, and a few town hall meetings that were almost deserted. Myka could tell that Helena was discouraged by the response, so she put extra effort into reassuring her, both with touch and with her words. Helena seemed both confused and grateful for the reassurance, and her sweet smiles made Myka’s heart lift. If she could help, even in this small way, it was enough for Myka.

 

Claudia had given Myka an idea, that first day, about what she might be able to do with her time. Claudia had suggested setting up a charity, and Myka had thought long and hard about it for those first few days, before having a brainwave. Helena’s friend, the man who had been homeless – he had deeply affected Helena. Myka went out a few times to the neighbourhood where Helena had opened her first legal office and found a warehouse that might fit the bill, if she could raise enough money to get it started.

 

Money was a thing that divided Myka and Helena sharply. One had money, one did not. Or rather, one had always had money, the other hadn’t always. Myka was comfortable as an elementary school teacher, but she lived simply and within her means. Her greatest extravagance was buying books. Had she had dependants or been unlucky enough to be ill and require lots of medical investigation or treatment, she would have quickly found herself in financial trouble. Helena probably could have afforded to buy her own hospital if she got sick.

 

It was this division that made itself known first, between them. Their first real fight, their first real division. Myka and Helena arrived home, in the back of the town car, exhausted after a long day of campaigning, to find a new car in the driveway. A Mercedes that looked really expensive.

 

“Helena?” Myka said, softly. Helena was half asleep, her head nodding.

 

“Yes, Myka?” Helena said, startled from her reverie, confused.

 

“Whose car is that?” Myka said, pointing, as the town car swung around in a circle to drop them close to the front door.

 

“Oh, that’s yours, darling,” Helena said, with a smile. “I didn’t know it was coming this soon.”

 

“Mine? But you already have a car,” Myka said, confused.

 

“I know, but there will be times when you might want your own space or to go places on your own. So I arranged for a car,” Helena said, looking puzzled.

 

Myka nodded, her jaw tight, saying nothing. The driver didn’t need to get an earful about their arrangement, their relationship, and how Myka was essentially a kept woman.

 

Helena picked up the mail, oblivious to Myka’s inner turmoil. The keys to the new car had been placed in the mailbox, too. Helena passed them to Myka absentmindedly, still looking through the mail, and then presented Myka with an envelope containing the paperwork for a new bank account. A bank account that contained $150,000 dollars. In Myka’s name.

 

Myka protested, immediately. She didn’t need that amount of money. She didn’t need a car at all, never mind one as obviously expensive as the one on the driveway. Helena looked at her uncertainly, explaining that it was for the look of things, because Myka was going to be the wife of the new Governor, the First Lady of California. She needed to be dressed appropriately, and that cost money. And Helena, rather thoughtfully, Myka would realise later, had arranged for her to have her own car and her own budget so that if she didn’t want to be involved in the campaign too closely, she could fill her time with whatever activities she wished. At the time, though, Myka was just incensed. Her father had insinuated this, said that their relationship was a financial transaction, that Helena had to be paying Myka because there was no way his daughter could be like that whore.

 

Myka was glad, later, that she hadn’t said that. Helena knew that’s what she was thinking – she even said it, but at least the words hadn’t come from Myka. Helena flinched, however, as she said it.

 

“You feel like a kept woman? A whore?”

 

Myka felt her heart clench. She knew, deep down, that she wasn’t being fair. But she said yes, she did. It was a lot of money; more than she could have ever thought was necessary, even for this sort of life. Helena tried to explain. She told Myka that things cost a lot, that the money was entirely necessary. But Myka couldn’t quite imagine needing that much money just for clothes or going out to restaurants or whatever it was that Helena imagined her doing with her free time. She brooded and as soon as it was polite, she went to hide in her study. Her first call was to Pete.

 

“What’s up, Mykariffic?” he said, the smile evident in his voice, and it made Myka smile too. She explained, and she heard him chew on something thoughtfully before answering.

 

“Did you check out the stylists and tailors or whatever? The ones she mentioned?” Pete asked, quite logically, and Myka was forced to admit that no, she hadn’t.

 

“Who do you need to talk to, to find out how much this stuff costs?” he asked, and Myka didn’t have to think long.

 

“Claudia, I guess,” she said, and she could hear Pete nodding to himself.

 

“No offence, partner,” he began – he’d always called her partner, telling her she should have been the Secret Service agent, not Sam – “but do you think that maybe you might have overreacted, here, just a little?”

 

His voice was gentle, but he was right. Myka knew that. She said so, quietly, and Pete told her to go call Claudia, and to call him back anytime she needed to talk. She thanked him and sighed before dialling Claudia’s number.

 

“Claudia, it’s Myka,” she began, and Claudia cut her off, quickly.

 

“I have caller display, Madam Governor’s wifey. What do you want?”

 

“I think I screwed up.”

 

“Explain.”

 

So Myka did. She could practically hear Claudia’s eyes rolling. As they talked, Myka heard a series of pings from her computer.

 

“Go check your email, wifey,” Claudia said, almost kindly. There were pictures of dresses and suits that Helena had worn over the years on her ‘dates’, along with pictures of various public figures, including the current governor and his wife. Underneath each outfit was the price tag.

 

“The price doesn’t include the shoes, or the jewellery,” Claudia said, sounding almost bored.

 

“Jesus,” Myka breathed. Some of the outfits cost almost $30k each. It was a world she had never had any part of. Why on earth hadn’t she checked some of this stuff before going off? She could currently afford 5 outfits like those. Without shoes. Or jewellery.

 

“How upset is she?” Claudia asked, and this time the snap of anger was clear in her voice.

 

“Uh… pretty upset. I don’t know if she’s hurt or angry. I guess I don’t really know her well enough to say,” Myka said, and there was silence for a moment.

 

“Well, at least I know you’re not a gold-digger,” Claudia said. “But you fucked up, Bering, so you better make this up to her. You hear me?”

 

Myka said yes, and then listened to the dial tone. She had a good idea as to how she could make this better, but she needed to make some calls, first. Helena knocked on her door, just then, to say she was going to bed, and Myka absentmindedly said goodnight, before beginning an internet search with tools Claudia had given her to discover the owner of the warehouse she’d been thinking about, in Helena’s old neighbourhood. If she did this right, she could do something to make this up to Helena as well as doing something good for the campaign.

 

 

The next morning, she apologised to Helena. She did it sincerely, and Helena accepted it graciously, while making Myka wince. She said that she had obviously given Myka reason, with her philandering, to mistrust Helena. Her demeanour, however, was clear. Whatever trust Myka had gained with Helena was gone, now. She did not physically withdraw, but mentally? She was completely inaccessible to Myka. There was no more touching, no more kissing other than those that they shared in public. And despite sleeping wrapped together – even when they started out on opposite sides of the bed they still ended up intimately entwined when they woke – they barely spoke to one another.

 

Myka’s attention, however, was firmly on her project. She had fucked up royally with Helena and now she needed to earn back her wife’s trust. She met with Wolly, or William Wolcott, a diffident and pleasant man who nevertheless clearly had serious mental health issues. PTSD coupled with schizophrenia and god only knew what else. He was accompanied by his wife, Kelly, a veterinarian. She was another of Helena’s previous clients, a woman on the verge of being deported. Helena had taken on her case and proved her right to citizenship.

 

“She made me laugh, your wife,” Kelly told her the first time they met. “She was shouting the whole time about how the system was rigged against me, that there shouldn’t have to be a bloody white saviour narrative just so I could get to stay in the country.”

 

Kelly did a passable Helena impression, drawing herself up haughtily and nailing the accent. Myka laughed, and was pleased to see that Wolly was comfortable enough with her to laugh in her presence. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who relaxed around many people.

 

Between the three of them, they came up with a plan. Wolly had contacts with local contractors and knew plenty of people who would work for food. Especially for a project that might see them, at some point, with a home that was at least semi-permanent.

 

It took a week or so to muddle through the paperwork for ownership of the warehouse, but the owners were happy to let Myka and Wolly and Kelly and their band of merry helpers in to begin cleaning up. If things didn’t go to plan, at least the place would be a little cleaner for the next potential buyer. The sale did go through, however, and for the next three weeks or so, the team of people that Myka had brought together had worked a small miracle on the warehouse space. The warehouse was to be named after Christina, Helena’s daughter who had passed away after only 2 short weeks of life. Myka and Wolly thought that was the best name for it; one that would mean something deeply personal to Helena, something that would show that Myka had listened and that Myka cared. Because she did. She cared deeply, and the last few weeks without Helena had been hell. Sure, Helena was around some of the time, but she wasn’t there, not really. She smiled and she chatted politely, but the shutters were down around her heart, and Myka wanted to open them again, wanted to see Helena smile genuinely once again. She wanted to kiss Helena. She wanted to wake up and kiss Helena and make love to her, because she had fallen, and fallen hard.

 

The day came when the shelter was almost ready – or at least, ready enough for Helena to view it without falling down any unfortunate holes or being assailed by the lingering stench of years of urine. Myka asked, politely, if she could show Helena something, and Helena replied with her now-customary polite disinterest that of course she could. Myka tried to keep a lid on her excitement. This might not work. Helena might remain distant and withdrawn. If that was the case, Myka wasn’t sure what she could do. What she had done – using the stipend and selling the car that Helena had given her – it might backfire on her, spectacularly. Helena might see it as a further slight on her not inconsiderable wealth and it may grow to be an uncrossable chasm between them. But Myka had done all she could. The car pulled up outside the warehouse and Myka took a deep breath. Helena was already looking outside curiously where Kelly and Wolly were waiting. Myka smiled nervously at Helena before encouraging her to go and say hello to her friends. Helena climbed out of the car, confused, but she smiled and greeted Wolly and Kelly politely.

 

Helena asked, clearly terribly confused, what she was doing here – what they were all doing here. Wolly smiled at her widely before telling her.

 

“We are here to invite you to view the Christina Wells homeless shelter before it opens.”

 

Helena gaped at them.

 

“The what?” she asked, and Myka could tell that her composure was close to cracking. She spoke gently, calmly, so that Helena would understand what was happening.

 

“The Christina Wells shelter for the homeless. I used the money you gave me to buy the building, once I’d traced the owners. They were really happy to get rid of it, actually. And then when I’d run out of money I used your credit card buying beds and shower fittings and kitchen equipment and – well, Wolly did most of the actual arranging of things, and volunteers have been working really hard to get it ready. Claudia managed to arrange the planning permission by making a whole lot of phone calls and calling in a lot of favours. Do you want to come inside?”

 

Helena allowed herself to be led inside, to be shown around, her mouth slightly open in confusion, trying to take in what Myka had done. She said nothing until they were all back outside, by which time she was back to gaping at them all. She asked them, carefully, if they had done what she thought they had – that they’d set up a homeless shelter in less than a month, that they’d named it after Christina, and they all nodded, agreeing. Kelly and Wolly told her a little more about the work they did, unfairly naming Myka as doing a lot of the work when in fact she’d mainly been there to cheer people up and keep the troops happily working.

 

Helena turned to look at her, and asked the question that Myka was dreading.

 

“This must have cost more than that stipend I gave you, Myka. Even a building like this.”

 

Myka explained, a little ashamed and a lot worried, that she had sold the car Helena gave her. The list price had been $250k; Claudia managed to sell it for only a small amount less than the list price, due to the fact that it had already been delivered to Myka and would be shown as second-hand rather than brand new. So Myka explained, and Helena gaped. Myka was shaking a little, frightened of what Helena’s reaction might be. She needn’t have worried, however. Helena called her amazing, said she was speechless, and then threw herself at Myka, kissing her deeply and fully, pulling Myka close, her hand in Myka’s hair. Myka, after a moment of surprise, kissed back. She hadn’t expected the kissing, had hoped only that this would mean enough to Helena that it would make this distance between them disappear. As things stood, there wasn’t any distance at all between them, because Helena’s tongue was doing amazing things in Myka’s mouth, and she was getting carried away and she didn’t care. She could have strangled Wolly when he wolf-whistled. Myka broke away, blinking.

 

“I told you,” Kelly stage-whispered to Wolly, “these two are made for each other.”

 

Helena joked with her friends, and then said some lovely things about Myka and about what they’d done here. Myka protested, saying that she was only trying to support the amazing good that Helena was doing by dedicating herself to public service. They talked for a little while longer, Helena staying wonderfully close to Myka, putting her hands in Myka’s coat pockets, something that felt extremely intimate, somehow. Myka felt that draw, again, that feeling of being pulled towards Helena, and she didn’t resist it, relaxing into Helena’s embrace as they talked to Wolly and Kelly. They made a date to meet again soon, and then Helena and Myka were in the car again, alone apart from the driver behind the privacy glass.

 

Helena turned to her, asking her why she had done this. Her face was entirely unreadable, in that moment, and Myka found that she was once again fighting against the butterflies in her stomach. She took a breath and explained all of the reasons she’d taken into account before making this decision, and finally Helena nodded. There was silence for the rest of the journey, and when they got home Helena excused herself, excruciatingly politely in the way that only the English can be, to swim. Myka found herself floundering, not knowing what to do with herself. This was supposed to be the thing that brought them together, and despite their kiss from earlier she still didn’t have the faintest idea how Helena felt.

 

She decided to fill the time until Helena swam and bathed by cooking them something for dinner. They seldom cooked; they usually ordered in and when they did cook something, it was usually along the lines of scrambled eggs or grilled cheese. She decided to try her mom’s recipe for spaghetti sauce. It was a comfort food favourite, and while California wasn’t really the right climate for comfort food, she thought it might cheer Helena up a little. She made the sauce from scratch (and from memory) finding the cupboards surprisingly well stocked for two people who didn’t actually cook. The sauce was cooking and tasted pretty good by the time Helena had finished her swim. Myka absently tapped the spoon against her cheek, not noticing the sauce she splashed on there, as she wondered if there was anything she could add to the food. At that moment, Helena stepped inside, closing the French doors behind her. She looked up at Myka as she wrapped herself in her robe, and then they had the most extraordinarily awkward conversation. Helena was staring at Myka in a way that she couldn’t understand. It looked like anger, or surprise, or – and she didn’t even dare let herself think this, not really – passion. Helena asked her what she was doing, and Myka said she was making Helena dinner, and Helena stared some more before going to shower. She was in the bathroom for a really long time, and while she was in there, Myka wondered what the hell she had done wrong this time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka's view of the change in their relationship...

* * *

 

Their dinner, when Helena eventually showed up, was really pleasant. Helena didn’t say a great deal, but she made a great show of appreciating Myka’s cooking and the effort she had made, and that night when they went to bed she kissed Myka’s cheek, just once, before wrapping her arms around Myka. Usually, it was Myka making the effort to cuddle up to Helena, to try to make things more comfortable between them, but not that night, or indeed most of the nights that followed. For the next week or so, Helena often sought out Myka’s touch, mostly when they were alone, leaning in and putting her head on Myka’s shoulder while they watched television or cuddling up to her in bed. It was a pleasant change and Myka was enjoying it very much, every touch that Helena gave her feeling like a gift. But there was still something wrong, something not fitting right. Helena was clearly struggling as the Gubernatorial campaign took a nasty turn, Walter Sykes bringing up Helena’s past, alleging that she wasn’t fit to run the State since she wasn’t a real American. Not only that, she was bisexual and had deserted her husband after the death of their child. Myka could see the allegations hit Helena like a physical blow, but Helena wouldn’t come to Myka, wouldn’t talk about it. She just insisted that she was fine.

 

It took the arrival of Steve Jinks, a man who Myka had only met once, at their wedding, for Helena to finally let go of all the anger and pain she was feeling. Virtually as soon as they greeted him at the exit gate, Helena began to cry, her face crumpling. Steve shielded her with his body and they beat a hasty retreat to the town car, where Helena cried in Steve’s arms the whole way home. Myka didn’t know what to do. This visit from Steve had been Claudia’s idea, to publicise the fact that Helena had a partner. They were to go out and get a little drunk and, from what Myka could discern, get a little handsy for the cameras. But now, Helena was crying her heart out in Steve’s arms and she hadn’t said a word to Myka, not once. Just a shake of the head and an “I’m fine,” when asked if she was okay. Myka didn’t want to make this all about her, but she was supposed to be Helena’s support, and Helena would rather let go in front of Steve than even tell Myka how she felt. Not for the first time since they’d started this pretence, Myka felt useless. She didn’t know how to act, what to do. She didn’t know why she was even here.

 

When they arrived at the house, Helena pulled herself together and Myka directed Steve to a guest room, returning to sit next to Helena on the couch.

 

“Are you okay, honey?” Myka asked softly.

 

“Yes. I’m sorry, Myka. I lost my composure in public. I can’t afford to do that,” Helena said. She sounded dismissive and cold, and Myka was discouraged. She decided to keep trying, however. 

 

She took Helena’s hands in hers.

 

“You are a human being, Helena. You get to feel bad. You get to feel hurt. You get to feel whatever the hell you like. Walter Sykes – he’s an asshole. The man is attacking you and I know that you are hurting. Why did it take Steve coming here for you to react? Why are you holding this in? I’ve been here this whole time, Helena, and you sleep in my arms every night. But you haven’t cried. You haven’t shouted. You’ve been silent this whole time. Why can’t you just let go with me?”

 

Helena stared at her lap, where Myka’s hands were holding hers.

 

“I thought after…after the homeless shelter, we had established some trust, you know? I thought you knew that I was here for you,” Myka said, on the verge of tears herself. She had thought – she had really thought – that she could do some good, here, for Helena. 

 

“I do,” Helena said.

 

“Then why?”

 

Helena shrugged and Myka winced. The body language couldn’t really be clearer, could it? 

 

“Do you… do you want me to back off, Helena? I’m trying to support you, but if it’s not working, if I’m not helping…” Myka said, knowing that she sounded meek and hating it.

 

“No, that’s not it, Myka. I just… I’m not used to depending on anyone else. Steve and I – we’ve spent years working together and he’s been my closest friend. I suppose that I am comfortable leaning on him on the odd occasion when I become overwhelmed. I’ve never been under this sort of pressure before, though,” Helena said, and she was frowning but her eyes were finally meeting Myka’s, now.

 

“Pressure, Helena? This isn’t pressure! This is like a war – they’re attacking you, every aspect of your character. You need help and support, not just someone you can lean on occasionally,” Myka said, her voice strengthening. She moved closer to Helena cautiously, putting her arm around her wife’s shoulders. She gently pulled Helena close, and was inordinately pleased – and relieved – when Helena sighed and put her head on Myka’s shoulder, relaxing into her hold. It felt wonderful. Helena’s hair smelled amazing, and she was soft and warm and Myka could have kissed her, right then, had she not been so hesitant given the way Helena had been with her. 

 

“I’ll try, Myka. I’m not in the habit, I suppose,” Helena sighed, rather dramatically.

 

“Well, get into the habit. You need this, Helena. You need to depend on someone or you’re gonna go insane,” Myka said, chastising slightly, and squeezing Helena a little, pulling her closer. Myka kissed her temple, and Helena turned in to her body, then, putting her arm across Myka’s belly. Myka rubbed Helena’s back, and thought vaguely that they should go get ready, but she didn’t want to move, and Helena clearly didn’t, either, given the way she was clutching at Myka’s shirt. They stayed like that until Steve returned from his room, changed and ready to go out.

 

They sprung apart and went to get ready, leaving a slyly smiling Steve in their wake. As Myka was showering, she was thanking all the deities for their help, for the fact that Helena had finally opened up to her a little after the money debacle. Myka hoped this was the beginning of something between them, but she wouldn’t hope too much. After all, they’d been together now for a while and their personal relationship had taken steps backwards rather than forwards in that time – a fact that was totally Myka’s fault, she knew.

 

They made their way out for dinner, meeting with Liam and Claudia and her boyfriend, Todd, after making their way through a gauntlet of celebrities and politicians. Helena introduced Myka as her wife, her hand in the small of Myka’s back as they made their way through the crowds, and for some reason Myka found herself blushing. Helena was calling Myka her wife, and while she knew it was only a pretence, it made her feel things.

 

The food was delicious and the company was pleasant. Steve was sweet and friendly and he and Claudia got on like a house on fire, and Liam, one of the campaign staff who Myka knew vaguely, was a really sweet and funny guy, too. Claudia’s boyfriend said very little but was smiling and listening intently, clearly shy. The evening was really fun and normally Myka would have been fully engaged, but on this night she could only think about Helena’s touch. Helena’s arm was around the back of her chair and her fingertips were tracing designs on Myka’s upper arm. Myka placed her hand on Helena’s thigh experimentally, and found that Helena simply smiled at her. So she traced gently on the denim covering Helena’s leg, and when Helena moved a little later she held her hand, touching her palm gently, rubbing her thumb over Helena’s knuckles and enjoying the feeling as Helena did the same to her, smiling at her every now and then. All in all, it was one of the better nights they’d spent together recently. She was still stunned, however, when Helena grabbed her arm and virtually dragged her into the hallway leading to the restaurant’s bathrooms. Helena pushed her against the wall, again to Myka’s extreme surprise. She was about to say something that might have been “What’s wrong,” or “Are you okay,” when Helena cut off any attempt at speech by kissing Myka. It took a moment for Myka’s brain to catch up and realise why she wasn’t able to speak, but when she realised that Helena was kissing her she kissed back fiercely, making a guttural noise that she’d never heard from herself before, and pulling Helena closer still with her arms around her waist. She had forgotten that all of this was supposed to be a photo op of sorts, and as far as Myka was concerned this was just Helena kissing her because she wanted to. So she kissed back and she forgot herself, her hands roaming so much that Helena had to grab them and return them to her waist. Helena’s tongue was in her mouth, hot and wet, and Helena’s hand was pulling at her hair. Myka’s libido was shouting at her in terms that she wouldn’t normally use, and her tongue was speaking those needs to Helena loud and clear. She did wonder, even months later, what would have happened right then if Claudia hadn’t interrupted them.

 

“I said dial up the PDA, not get us thrown out,” Claudia said laconically from behind them, and Helena pulled away reluctantly. Myka’s hand, quite of its own volition, snuck down the back of Helena’s jeans, finding the edge of her underwear and beginning to move downwards. Helena and Claudia had a conversation that Myka barely heard. She was too interested in teasing Helena, Helena who was trying to talk but whose voice was catching as Myka tickled at the skin of her right buttock.  As Helena pulled away to follow Claudia, Myka leaned forward a little to chuckle into Helena’s ear. She felt Helena shiver and it made her chuckle even more.

 

The club they went to was so loud that Myka could barely hear herself think. Liam and Steve snuck off extremely quickly to some dark corner, leaving Myka leaning against a wall with Helena in front of her, leaning back into Myka’s body. Myka’s hand sneaked its way across Helena’s stomach, and she felt the muscles contract in surprise. She pulled Helena against her a little and lifted her glass to her lips, tasting the harsh burn of the scotch. The red wine they’d been drinking at dinner had been mellow and almost sweet; this scotch was neither. She winced a little and then realised that Helena had turned her head to look at Myka.

 

“Are you okay, darling?” Helena asked. Myka frowned a little before replying.

 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Myka asked quizzically.

 

“Well,” Helena began, “I thought I might have taken you a little by surprise earlier.”

 

Myka smiled.

 

“I thought that was why we were at the restaurant, Helena,” she said quietly, her lips close to Helena’s ear. “To get pictures of us being affectionate, showing everyone that we’re in love.”

 

Helena swallowed as she looked up at Myka, and there was silence between them for a moment.

 

“Well, yes,” Helena said, her voice quiet, and she turned away again before taking a sip of her drink. Myka felt Helena’s body tense a little against her. She thought, hard, before speaking. It might not be the best idea in the world.

 

Myka leaned forward, her lips almost touching Helena’s ear. “You know, there’s no reason why we can’t see what happens here. We’ve promised we won’t see other people, and we’re clearly attracted to each other.”

 

Helena turned a little to look up at her, and the vulnerability in her eyes almost made Myka gasp. She looked at Myka and she turned a little more, just enough that their lips could meet. The contact was gentle at first, but then something in Myka roared to life. She kissed Helena fervently. This wasn’t why she had followed Helena, the possibility of a physical relationship. But now that the possibility was in front of her, now that it was real, she was going to make the most of it. She kissed Helena and let her hands roam, laughing as Helena’s abdominal muscles trembled again when she touched them gently.

 

It was a while later – Myka honestly couldn’t have said how long – when Steve and Liam interrupted them. The world had faded out for her, and she was genuinely shell-shocked when Helena pulled away from her. They offered Liam and Steve a ride to get some coffee, allegedly. Myka privately thought that Steve and Liam were about to have the same kind of ‘coffee’ that Myka was hoping to have with Helena very shortly. When the car door closed behind them and the guys turned away, Myka practically jumped on Helena, much to the surprise of the driver who hurriedly raised the screen to afford them some privacy. He was one of the drivers they saw more frequently, and Myka made a mental note to buy him a Danish or something the next time they saw him, by way of apology. But then thought fled as she heard Helena whisper something.

 

“I’m yours,” she heard, and her heart leapt. She had been nipping at Helena’s lip and now she bit even harder, her tongue soothing the pain before slipping easily into Helena’s mouth. Helena sucked on her tongue and it made her see stars, her hands making decisions all by themselves, slipping down into Helena’s jeans. The driver coughed to get their attention, telling them they were home, and they half-walked, half-fell to the door of their home, Helena finally managing to find her key and open the door.

 

Myka practically slammed Helena against the front door once she’d closed and locked it, her hands once again making their way downwards to Helena’s ass. She realised as she was squeezing it and lifting Helena’s weight a little that she thought her ass might be her favourite part of Helena’s body. She was biting Helena’s neck and heard Helena say something, but it didn’t quite make it through the haze of lust that had overtaken her brain. It took a few more times, but she eventually realised that Helena was trying to get her attention. She wanted to talk? Myka stared at her in confusion.

 

“Are you sure about this, Myka? You’re drunk, we’re both drunk. I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

 

Myka stared a little more. What the hell was Helena thinking? How could she think that Myka was doing anything other than what she wanted to? She had started this, or at least had started the part that began in the club. She opened her mouth to speak, and cursed when her voice came out sounding vulnerable, cracking as she spoke.

 

“I don’t feel like that at all. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much,” she said, and after a moment Helena moved forward with a small nod, kissing Myka and pulling her hands down to where they had been resting. Myka responded with all the pent-up need and desire she’d been pushing down for the time they’d spent together, responding to Helena in a way she never had with anyone before. She was reserved, as a general rule, not the kind of person to touch others much, not the kind of person to lose control. But lose control she did, here with Helena. She wanted Helena and she took what she wanted with the kind of single-minded drive that she had been missing since Sam. She pulled off Helena’s shirt, admiring the freckles that spotted her chest, kissing each one individually as she tried to take off Helena’s jeans. The damn things were like a second skin and both women eventually ended up on the floor, Helena lifting her ass so that Myka could pull the jeans off. They both giggled for long moments before Myka touched Helena for the first time through her underwear, and then they didn’t giggle again, because Helena’s eyes were darkening visibly and she was practically tearing Myka’s shirt off, and then they were somehow in their bedroom naked, and Myka was gasping, desperate with a need she didn’t know how to adequately express. She chose to put her research to work, glad that she’d spent so much time reading to prepare herself for this. She focused on Helena’s body, and then Helena’s eyes were holding Myka’s as she came, her eyes filling with tears, and Myka felt something fill her. It wasn’t love, or at least not quite yet, but it was something beautiful. She felt a profound sense of satisfaction, because it was more than clear that Helena had been happy with what she was doing – her ears would take a while to recover – but there was also a softer sense of contentment. The connection they’d made was profound, the kind of connection that Myka had always wanted but had never really felt.

 

Helena took a moment to recover, her body slack and covered with a fine misting of sweat, but when she recovered, she took Myka to heights that her body had never reached before. Helena’s experience was clear; she knew Myka’s body, somehow, and played it like a virtuoso plays their instrument, but again there was that sense of connection, and that was what stuck with Myka in the days and months to follow. The sex was amazing, yes, but something else had happened between them that night, a connection had been forged, and it was warming and confining and freeing all at once. When they wore themselves out, Myka wrapped Helena up in her arms as she usually did and then let her body relax, falling asleep almost immediately.

 

The following morning Myka woke with her face buried in Helena’s hair, her leg flung over Helena’s body. Helena had started moving, she thought vaguely, so she looked at her and smiled, and leaned over to kiss her before she could think about whether she should or not. Thoughts about whether this should all happen again between them didn’t cross her mind, in fact, until much later that day. She couldn’t help but let her hands roam over the body next to her, and then the kiss, which was supposed to be just a simple “good morning,” turned into something quite different, and she was having the most amazing sex with Helena all over again. And over again. Helena’s cellphone rang, eventually, disturbing them, and after Helena had picked it up she turned the television on, finding a news report on that mentioned them and showed some footage of them from the night before. In any other situation Myka would have found it difficult to watch herself on a television screen, let alone on a television screen kissing someone, but she had just spent the most amazing night with the woman in question, and that woman was her wife. As it was, she was glad they had just had sex because watching Helena kiss her on a television screen was incredibly sexy.

 

Helena hung up the phone and turned to look at her, and she just looked at her, wide-eyed, for a long moment. Myka broke the silence, telling Helena she was beautiful, because she was _stunning_. Naked, her hair in disarray, she was more beautiful than Myka had ever seen her. Helena said the same in return, but Myka told her that she looked like a goddess, and she clearly should have stopped there, because the next thing she said was that if they had kids they should have Helena’s genes. Helena’s face whitened and she her body stiffened up, and she was staring at nothing. Myka suddenly realised what she’d said, and she soothed Helena and relaxed her until she was huddled against Myka’s side with Myka’s arm around her. Myka kissed her hair and spoke to her gently for a while before being interrupted again by Helena’s phone. Myka noticed her uncertainty and asked if Helena wanted Myka to pick it up. Helena nodded mutely and Myka picked up the phone. It was Steve, and she gave him the number of their car service. He confirmed that he was leaving shortly before hanging up. Myka turned to Helena and asked if she wanted to come join Myka in the shower, hoping it might help to snap her out of the state she was in, caused by Myka’s thoughtlessness. It seemed to work, at least for a while. Myka made a mental note for them to talk about the kids thing another time, when things were less emotional and new. In the meantime, she poured all of her energy into distracting Helena with her body, using the time to soothe her own mind, too – to remind herself that this connection between them was real, and not just about sex. Myka was falling in love with Helena, and she was desperately hoping that this change in their relationship meant that the feeling was mutual.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have noticed, I have been struggling a bit with this fic, what with it reminding me of certain real-life events that quite frankly scare the shit out of me as well as depressing me profoundly. This is the last of what I've written thus far. I am, however, committed to finishing this - I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those fic writers who just abandons a fic when people still want to read it. I am going to need a few weeks though, to get some more of this written. In the meantime I am going to post some new stuff to make up for the delay. Thank you all for continuing to read. :)


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